


Back to Before

by drunkbedelia



Category: High School Musical (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Future, Everyone Is Gay, High School Flashbacks, M/M, Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-04 22:58:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11565105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drunkbedelia/pseuds/drunkbedelia
Summary: Chad Danforth is a detective in New York City, starting to feel a little like his life already passed him by. That is, until he is put on the case of missing person Ryan Evans. With help from his parter Paris Geller, Chad must find out what happened to his high school crush – and if what happened in high school is responsible.---Present day cop story with high school flashbacks! Romance, drama, angst!





	1. Remember, Darling?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "How we kissed and how we clung--  
> Remember, darling?  
> We were foolish, we were young--  
> More than we knew."
> 
> \----
> 
> Chad and Paris are assigned a new case with a familiar... face

_Manhattan, New York_

_August, 2017_

\-------

Detective Chad Danforth half-jogged to the precinct, careful to keep the lid on his coffee cup as he went. Sweating like a popsicle in the summer heat, he cursed himself for ordering hot coffee on a day that was already 92 degrees with 80 percent humidity at 8 in the morning. Well, 8:34 – shit. Chad swore under his breath while he carefully balanced his bagel on his cup, digging through his messenger bag for his ID card. These days, any delay added more lateness to his already very late arrival, meaning more glares from his boss, more snide remarks from his partner –

“Danforth. You do know that we start here at 8, right?”

Speak of the devil. Chad flashed his most charismatic smile at Paris Geller, his right hand still busily searching the his pockets.

“Good morning, Geller!” Chad grinned, just as his fingers grasped the piece of rectangular plastic. “Gotcha,” he said under his breath.

“You’re late.” Paris walked in front of him at a stride, cooly pulling out her own ID card without issue and walking into the office at her usual aggressive speed.

“Hey,” Chad said, swiping in and jogging to catch up. “If I’m not mistaken, you also just swiped in. Therefore, you’re also late. Therefore, you cannot guilt me–“

“I was here at 7,” Paris snapped. “And if you feel guilty for being late, maybe try, I don’t know, getting here on time? Ever heard of an alarm clock? It does wonders for man-children like yourself who can’t seem to get their shit together.”

Ouch. Chad put down his bag, coffee, and bagel on his desk and looked at Paris with good-natured amusement. She was already typing furiously on her computer, occasionally glaring down at a report in front of her.

Chad slumped into his chair and leaned forward, taking a bite of his bagel. He chewed thoughtfully. Mouth half-full, he asked as casual as he could, “Busy this morning, to get in at 7?” 

Paris did not react, except to increase the velocity of her typing to a near inhuman speed. Chad sighed, figuring that meant the friendly chatting portion of the morning was over. He brushed the crumbs off his desk and got to work.

—--

The morning crawled by, Chad getting through a significant stack of backlogged reports and nursing his coffee to stay awake. Paris said few words to him, only to confirm some facts and figures on an arrest made weeks ago. When noon came, Chad was grateful for the chance to go stretch his legs.

“Lunch,” he said to Paris, who glanced up uncomprehendingly. “Lunch time. C’mon, there’s a new falafel place down the street. You said you wanted to go.”

Paris shook her head. “I’ve got work to do.”

Chad rolled his eyes. “This is our slowest day in weeks. A break might make you feel better.”

Paris’s eyes narrowed. “I feel fine, thanks,” she snapped.

Chad held up his hands in defeat. “Fine, fine. See you.” He grabbed his bag and left the office. Immediately upon stepping onto the sidewalk he regretted this decision, breathing in the stifling, fermented smell of Manhattan in the summer. He walked as quickly as he could to the falafel shop and enjoyed the brief AC before returning to his desk.

Being partnered with Paris last year had opened up a world of stress, conflict, and quick-witted banter that Chad had never known existed. Often Chad was temped to ring her neck, and he knew Paris felt the same about him, usually because she told him as much. At the same time though, they weirdly worked well together – really well – her focused, determined, acerbic nature complimenting his laid-back positivity. The two called each other on their shit, and kept one another afloat when dealing with the details of missing loved ones and gruesome homicides. They ended up being the most efficient detective pair in the precinct last year, and surprisingly, enjoyed each other’s company enough to be friends.

Lately, however, their chemistry was being tested. Chad knew Paris had personal shit going on, mostly to do with her still-fresh divorce from her wife of ten years. She was even more short-tempered than usual, refusing to join Chad and the guys for a drink after work, spending more time in the office than was necessary and snapping at Chad when he made any little mistake. 

Meanwhile, Chad was dealing with his own crisis of sorts. He wasn’t sure why; maybe the thought of turning 30 in a few months, or the fact that he had never had a meaningful longterm relationship. Or that after working his ass off to make detective, he still wanted to cry sometimes at work when learning about just how abominable human nature could be. Or that his trail of one-night stands with handsome men no longer satisfied him, but left him empty and disillusioned.

Chad breathed a heavy sigh and ran his hand through his short, curly hair. He then heard an equally fraught, though more accusing, sigh from the desk in front of him.

“Danforth!” Paris said, tapping his shoulder not-so-lightly with her pencil. “Let’s go!”

Chad scrambled out of his chair, following Paris who was already charging ahead.

“What’s going on?”

Paris rolled her eyes. “You’re really on top of things today. The captain called us.”

“Really? Do you think–” Chad started to ask but stopped short, as they had arrived at the boss’s office.

“Danforth, Geller, good,” Captain Ortega said, waving them in. “A case came in this afternoon and I want you two on it.”

"A new case, sir?" Paris asked, eyes glittering. Chad couldn’t help but get excited too; those backlogged reports were turning his mind numb.

Ortega pulled a file off his desk and flipped through it. “Misper. White male, 28, Brooklyn. Just over 48 hours now.” When both Chad and Paris’s faces fell, Ortega held up his hand. “We're on it because Brooklyn MC is up to their ass in the Nettle case. That, and this guy comes from a powerful family.”

“We’ll sweep the yachts right away,” Paris said under her breath, and Chad tried very hard to keep a straight face.

She was right, Chad thought as his anticipation was replaced by annoyance. Nothing like a privileged jackass getting shitfaced at a frat party to waste precious police time. Especially when fueled and funded by that jackass’s rich family. The precinct got way too many of these cases a month, always wrapped up quickly when the kid turns up hung over on a friend’s couch a couple days later.

Luckily, the captain was either half-deaf or immune to Paris’ quips by now. He continued to look over the file. “Name is Evans. Family some richy-rich type with fancy hotels and spas and that sort of fluff all over the country. They made it very clear they give a lot of money to the city and if we don't find their son soon they will personally fund Manhattan sinking into the ocean.”

“Would we recognize the guy?” Chad asked.

“Light record, disorderly conduct and public urination. Drunk on both counts.”“Charming,” Paris said.

“I thought so,” Ortega replied dryly. “So here you go,” he said, handing the file to Paris and turning back to his desk. “Find this guy before the family sues the mayor.”

—--

Paris and Chad walked to an empty briefing room. Since it was so slow they had their pick, and chose the one with the best access to air conditioning and closest to the vending machine. 

“I’m gonna grab something before we start, you want anything?”

Paris rolled her eyes as she sat down. “Your work ethic should get its own Lifetime movie. It’s inspired.” But then she added, “Red Bull, please.”

Chad grinned and ran to the vending machine, quickly getting a Red Bull and a granola bar (Paris hadn’t eaten lunch, after all) and Doritos for himself. He jogged back to the briefing room and laid the snacks out before sitting down.

“So,” Chad said, opening his chips with a satisfying pop. “Publicly-urinating kid and a rich family with a stick up their ass. Right up your alley.”

Paris shot him a dirty look. “I resent the implication that I would ever publicly urinate. And 28, not exactly a kid.”

“Don’t rich kids get to coast until they’re fifty and take over the family business, though?”

“This guy runs a dance studio in Williamsburg.”

“Okay, half-coasting.”

“And those records are from college. Looks like our Ryan’s been pretty quiet the past few years.”

“Hmm,” Chad said, licking Dorito dust off his fingers.

“Don’t let me stop you from actually reading any of this yourself,” Paris said, not looking up from the report.

“You get mad when I get Dorito fingers on our mispers.”

“Because only five-year-olds get synthetic cheese powder on everything they touch.”

The two sat in comfortable silence, Chad crunching on his Doritos and glancing over the papers in front of Paris. If the case was a dud, he was still thankful to have their old dynamic back, even if only temporarily. Nothing like real work to distract you from real world problems…

“Hey, this guy’s family isn’t even here. Assholes are from the west coast.”

Chad furrowed his brow. “And they’re calling the mayor of New York? Privilege knows no bounds.”

“Brooklyn did preliminary interviews with friends, some phone calls with the parents and sister.” Paris read from a page. “Derby Evans, mother, says the family has property and influence in the Hamptons, Newport, Cape Cod, and Manhattan, and if we do not, quote ‘find her precious baby boy immediately all mayors and elected officials of those cities will not be re-elected come voting season.’ Jesus. Does Cape Code even have a mayor?”

Chad paused as he scrunched up the empty chip bag and threw it from the table into the trash can on the other side of the room. He felt strange, like something from way back in his memory was poking through, searching for air. “Did you say Ryan?”

“Yeah, pay attention,” Paris said, pushing a few papers towards him. “Ryan Evans. 28. The guy we’re finding.”

Chad stared at the page that had landed directly in front of him. There, cold blue eyes glared menacingly back from a police mugshot. Messy blonde hair. Flushed, pink cheeks. Ryan.

Ryan Evans, Chad’s first love.

—--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUN
> 
> to be continued! Up next high school fluff


	2. Sturdy Young Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There was a time  
> My feet were so solidly planted..."
> 
> \--
> 
> Prompted by Ryan's mugshot, Chad remembers a baseball game many years ago...

_Williamsburg, New York_

_August, 2017_

\-------

Chad was vaguely aware of Paris saying something to him. He didn’t notice, still studying the photograph in front of him.

Ryan. Young, handsome Ryan, only a few years older than his high school self, full of bravado, and likely, vodka. Gaunter, or maybe it was the police lighting; his babyface growing into that of a man, his cheekbones those of a runway model. Chad checked the date of the mugshot: 7 years ago. So this was college Ryan, fresh out of East High, likely thriving at Juilliard and having too much fun in a place that wasn’t hot, claustrophobic Albuquerque. Enough fun, at least, to get drunk and pee in an alley just as a cop rolled by. 

“You don’t look too good,” Paris said. 

Chad could hardly look away from the picture. “Bad falafel," he muttered.

“You’re from Albuquerque, right?”

“I… Yeah.”

“So? You know him? Sounds like the family’s a big deal out there.”

Chad did his best fake chuckle and forced his eyes off the page to meet his partner’s narrowed gaze. She was looking more than a little suspicious. “Albuquerque’s not some quaint New England town,” he said easily.

Paris continued her stare-down. “So that’s a no?”

Chad tossed the mugshot aside, affecting nonchalance. “No. Never heard of him. Hand me the rest of the Brooklyn notes?”

Paris handed him the pages with eyebrows raised, but then turned back to her own papers, the subject dropped. For now.

Chad tried to focus on the words in front of him, all the while masking his panic. Why had he lied? He knew Ryan. Well, he had. It had been a few years. Fragmented high school memories swirled in Chad’s mind, unwanted, persistent, blurring the text before him. Significant looks, fiery touches, an intimacy unlike anything he had known; and all the memories shadowed in the pain of what came next…

Chad scrunched his eyes tight and refocused on the work before him. Better not to think of the past at all.

\-------

_Albuquerque, New Mexico_

_July, 2006_

\-------

Chad was grinning like an idiot and he knew it, but he didn’t care. His baseball team just won, and soon he would be eating nachos. Life was good.

Chad walked into the locker room, a spring in his step, and then turned around and walked back out.

“Hey, Evans.”

Ryan was sitting on a bench just outside the locker room, tying his shoes with great concentration. When he saw Chad, he jumped about a foot in the air.

“Jesus. I wasn’t– I mean I thought everyone had already– I just got here, I wasn’t–“

Chad chuckled and put a hand on the guy’s shoulder. “Hey, whoah. Chill. Just saying hi,” Chad said. He had never seen Ryan so tongue tied, or so beet-red.

“Oh. Hi,” Ryan said, meeting Chad’s eyes for only a second.

Chad watched Ryan’s awkwardness, confused and unsure how to make him feel at ease. This foot shuffling, blushing Ryan made Chad’s heart ache in a way he didn’t quite understand. Sympathizing, he guessed, for the clear discomfort. Chad wondered where all that bravado from the baseball diamond went.

“Good game,” Chad said, thinking maybe Ryan was down about his team’s loss. “You’ve got moves.”

“Yeah well, if that game was on ‘moves’ alone I would have beaten your ass,” Ryan said with a smirk, some of his confidence returning. “No contest.”

“Sure, sure.” Chad said, smiling. “I know anything dance is your turf. I’d be an idiot to challenge that.”

“Your dancing isn’t so bad, Danforth,” Ryan said with a half-smile, one eyebrow raised. 

A combination of the expression on Ryan’s face and being called ‘Danforth’ made a shiver go down Chad’s spine. He smiled. “I told you, I don’t–“

“You don’t dance, I know. But when you are dragged on stage, against your will, by a certain jock and his girlfriend, you aren’t half-bad.”

Chad laughed. “Not half-bad, huh? I guess that’s high praise from an Evans.”

Ryan laughed, too. “If you want an actual compliment, you have to be in the show.”

“I guess I’ll have to be in the show, then,” Chad grinned and watched as Ryan blushed again. Did he always blush this much? Chad supposed he had just never noticed before. It was ridiculously endearing.

“Well. Good,” Ryan said with a small smile. The two didn’t say anything for a few seconds, just smiling at each other.

Chad heard the distant sound of celebratory yells and remembered the party. “I gotta jump in the shower and then head to the victory feast. I’m late, actually.”

“Oh yeah, I should head home, too,” Ryan said.

“What? No, dude, you gotta come to the party!”

“I lost, remember?”

Chad brushed this point away with a wave of his hand. “Not important. Besides, I bet everyone is talking about the talent show at this point.”

But Ryan still hesitated. “It’s just– I should go home. I’m all sweaty and gross–“

“Luckily, this place right in front of us is full of showers. It’s magical. You’ll love it.”

“I know.” Ryan said, a blush returning.

Chad stared at Ryan, who was now looking very badly like he wanted to flee. Then, realization dawning, Chad internally smacked himself for being so obtuse. Of course Ryan was acting strange; and Chad was only making it worse. An unpleasant memory flashed in his brain, an instance he had long forgotten: the locker room after freshman gym. That asshole jock, Murrey, and name calling, pushing and shoving… Now that Chad thought about it, he hadn’t seen Ryan in gym since freshman year, and he could understand why. He was overcome with sudden intense retroactive hate for those douchebags, and a fierce protectiveness of Ryan. He reached out and grasped Ryan’s shoulder, lowering his voice.

“Don’t sweat it, dude. Everyone else already left. And none of us care who’s in there. I don’t, for sure.”

Ryan bit his lip and glanced up at Chad uncertainly. “You sure? I can just wait out here, or go home–“

Chad rolled his eyes and, deciding it was time to put an end to this, took Ryan’s hand and pulled him into the locker room. 

“Make it quick, Evans! If there aren’t nachos left when we get there I’m blaming you,” Chad called as he grabbed a towel and ran for the showers.

Chad washed quickly and did his best not to think about Ryan a few stalls over. Being the only two in the huge locker room was, he supposed, a little spooky. Chad was sure his fixation was unrelated to what Ryan would look like wearing nothing but a towel. As soon as the thought formed, with accompanying imagery, Chad pushed it out of his mind with a shake of his head. This summer heat was really making him crazy.

Chad hopped out and headed to his locker. Ryan was still showering, and Chad could hear a soft acapella melody coming from his stall. Chad smiled despite himself and pulled on his jeans. But just as he slipped his t-shirt over his head, he noticed Ryan’s white baseball clothes, neatly folded on the bench to his right.

Chad studied the clothing. Still very clean and white despite the baseball game, Chad wondered if the fancy designer tags meant you never had to do laundry, either. He picked up expensive-looking white shirt and, without thinking, brought it up to his nose and breathed in deep. It smelled good; floral and sharp at the same time. Suddenly aware of himself, Chad quickly dropped the shirt to the bench, hurriedly refolding it and stepping away.

Then again… A mischievous smile played on Chad’s lips. Trying on a shirt that probably cost more than his entire closet might be fun. As he heard the water stop across the locker room, Chad made a snap decision and grabbed the polo, replacing it with his jersey. He slipped out of the locker room door, leaned casually against the outer wall, and waited.

A few minutes later, Ryan appeared, wearing his own designer pants with Chad’s baseball jersey and looking perturbed. 

“What did you–“ Ryan stopped in his tracks and looked Chad up and down in a way that made him tingle all over.

“You look ador–“ Chad stopped himself just in time, clearing his through to hide his initial choice of words. “–I mean, like a real baseball player.”

Ryan laughed. “And you look unusually well-dressed,” he said. “Only, wait. You’re missing something–“

Ryan suddenly stepped very close to Chad, just a few inches between them, and Chad got the absurd idea that Ryan was going to kiss him. Chad felt his heart rate quicken and couldn’t make out any intelligent thoughts beyond the blueness of Ryan’s eyes.

Then, just as quickly, Ryan stepped back. Chad, feeling very warm, laughed self-consciously and felt above his head. He realized Ryan had fit his striped pageboy cap over his curls. 

Chad hummed in approval. “In that case, you’ll need this,” he said, pulling his red baseball cap out of his backpack and placing it on Ryan’s head, careful to get the jaunty angle just right. Chad’s fingers brushed Ryan’s blonde hair, still a little damp, and Chad couldn’t help but notice how soft and fine it was, glowing in the afternoon sun. 

The two smiled at each other for another long second. Then, Chad grabbed Ryan’s arm and pulled him towards the party. The two ran, stumbling into each other a few times, to the other side of the field, only letting go of each other once they arrived at the picnic tables. As Chad sat down next to Gabriella, talking excitedly and reaching for a chip, he noticed Ryan hesitate on the outskirts of the crowd.

“Ryan, come on!” He yelled out. Ryan cautiously walked to the bench. “Get over here. I’m telling Gabriella about your great humility in baseball.” Chad looked at him expectantly, patting the spot on the bench next to him. Ryan, finally giving in, smiled and sat down.

Chad grinned, lost again in those blue eyes, and then recounted the game, resting lightly on Ryan’s shoulder. It was the happiest he had felt all summer.


	3. The Boys Upstairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I see it all. It's like a movie in my head that plays and plays.  
> It isn't just the bad things I remember; It's the whole damn show."
> 
> \----
> 
> The detectives learn more about Ryan's life after inspecting his apartment. Chad remembers time spent in Ryan's room back in high school.

\-------

_Williamsburg, New York_

_August, 2017_

\-------

The car was nearly silent on the way to Williamsburg, all conversation consisting of Paris yelling profanities at any driver who dare cut her off. Chad had let her take the keys without complaint, and she jumped in the driver’s seat gleefully. Usually Chad found Paris’s delight in terrorizing cars and pedestrians alike concerning, but today he was glad for the distraction.

The two had finished reading over the case file and were headed over the Williamsburg Bridge to talk to Ryan’s roommate. Chad’s thoughts had not stopped somersaulting since that afternoon, the ethics of his current position giving him a headache. He knew he should tell Paris that he knew Ryan, that he shouldn’t work the case, that this was a major conflict of interest– but at the same time, the thought of not finding out what happened to Ryan was unbearable. And besides, Chad told himself, he hadn’t seen Ryan in ten years. The two hadn’t had any contact since high school. His disappearance was connected to his new life, something that Chad had no affiliation with whatsoever. This little certainty kept Chad from speaking up, though it did not stop the twirling mass of guilt in his stomach, exacerbated by Paris’s sharp turns.

Finally, the car squeaked down a street of brownstones, and Paris brought them to an abrupt stop.

“Alright, 43 Rod Street,” Paris said, reading from a note on her phone. And then, glancing at Chad, “You look green.”

Chad swallowed and focused on something still in the scenery outside, trying to calm his churning insides and throbbing head. “Maybe if you didn’t drive like you were Ryan Gosling…”

“Yeah, yeah. Clock is ticking, let’s go.” Paris jumped out of the car and Chad followed suit, taking a couple aspirin on the way.

Once they climbed up the nine steep stories to Ryan’s apartment, Chad was mainly focused on catching his breath. 

“A ninth floor walk up? Really?” Chad panted.

Paris, looking equally drained, said, “The guy’s a dancer. He must enjoy this kind of torture.”

The two composed themselves and knocked on the door of Apartment 12. Seconds later, the door opened just a crack, revealing a tall, lanky guy with a sour look on his face.

“Todd Carmichael?” Paris asked. 

“Yeah?”

“I’m Detective Geller and this is Detective Danforth. May we come in?”

Todd rolled his eyes but opened the door all the way, leading them into the apartment.

“This about Ryan? Have you found him yet?” Todd asked, walking from front door to kitchen, only a few yards. The apartment was not the smallest Chad had seen, but still cramped. The kitchen fit just a couple stools against an island counter, and a couch sat a few feet away facing a television. Clothes, magazines, and miscellaneous food wrappers were strewn around the space, making it feel even smaller. To the right a short hallway had a few closed doors, Chad guessed the bedrooms. He suddenly wondered if Ryan and this Todd guy were dating.

“The case is ongoing,” Chad said. “You were the one who called to report Ryan missing, correct?”

Todd slumped onto one of the bar stools, slurping from a cup of coffee. The guy had clearly just woken up. “Yeah. I was out of town and when I got back, gone. No note or anything and all his stuff was still here, but then he didn’t reply to any of my texts or calls, so…”

“Would you say you’re close?” Chad asked. The irrational part of his brain really wanted the answer to be ‘no.’

Todd flipped some dark, greasy locks of hair from his eyes. “Nah, we’ve been living together for a year, but we don’t see each other much.”

“So you two are not romantically involved?” Chad couldn’t help but ask.

Both Todd and Paris gave him a look. “No, I have a girlfriend," he said pointedly. "Like I said, we’re roommates, but I don’t see him much. I reported him because he hasn’t paid his portion of the rent, and he wasn’t responding to any texts or calls. I had to cover his half this month, which I can’t afford. And look, if he doesn’t come back soon, I’ll have to pay next month’s as well. You guys can’t cover his rent, right?”

Chad raised his eyebrows. “You want us to pay your rent?”

“It’s not my fault the jackass decided to go a-wall. It’s fucking unfair, man. And when you find him, tell him he owes me. His half plus interest.”

“That will be our top priority,” Paris said dryly. “Can you point us to Ryan’s room?”

Todd showed them to the closest door down the hallway to the right. In sharp contrast to the rest of the apartment, Ryan’s room was spotless to the extreme, duvet smoothed down, hardwood floor shining.

“You didn’t touch anything in here?” Paris asked Todd. He replied in the negative before slouching back to the kitchen, leaving the detectives to inspect the room. 

“He left all his stuff?” Paris muttered to Chad, doubt in her voice. She indicated the impeccable desk, bare save for a tiny bonsai tree aligned just so with the desk’s right angles. “Can you say type A?”

“You’re one to talk,” Chad replied. He looked around the room, feeling more and more like this was strange, long dream. The room was different than Ryan’s high school bedroom; more sophisticated choices of furniture, all matching dark wood, and no more high school theater trophies on display. But despite the changes, Chad felt the essence of Ryan was still there, that same energy present in the choice of bedspread, the art on the wall…

Chad’s heart leapt into his throat as he caught sight of one specific poster, hung perfectly parallel just behind the door. Like a shock, a memory surfaced in Chad’s brain, taking him back to years ago. An afternoon, soon after that baseball game when he had first become friends with Ryan. It was a conversation he had long forgotten.

\-------

_Albuquerque, New Mexico_

_August, 2006_

\-------

“This one’s cool,” Chad said, tapping the technicolor poster on Ryan’s wall. It hardly stood out next to the many other Playbills and musical memorabilia, all bright colors and smiling ingenues. But Chad was drawn to it.

Ryan chuckled from the bed, where he sat cross-legged. “Yeah, I like that one. Sondheim.”

“It looks very… Epic,” Chad said, cocking his head. The poster featured an illustrated face, beautiful and proud, staring longingly out into the distance. It was surrounded by flowing blue hair, green and purple swirls, and giant block letters. “Follies,” Chad read. “Were you in that one?”

Ryan snorted. “Follies isn’t exactly East High material. It’s a little dark. And about sixty year olds.”

“Really? Sixty-year-olds?” Chad asked, surprised.

“Yep. Sixty-year-old men in a drag club who all murder each other.”

Chad turned around, staring. Ryan managed to keep a straight face for another second before breaking into laughter. 

“You’re fucking with me,” Chad said, crossing his arms. But a small smile played on his lips too. “This is like when you told me Wicked was The Wizard of Oz, only set in Boston.”

Ryan continued laughing. “And you believed me!”

Chad went over and hopped on Ryan’s bed next to him, hitting his friend’s knee. “You’re an ass.”

“Sorry,” Ryan said, still smiling a little. “You’re just so easy.”

“Who are you calling easy?” Chad asked.

Ryan looked mortified. “I didn’t mean–“ he started, his face instantly reddening.

“See, I can fuck with you too," Chad said, raising his eyebrows.

Ryan chuckled and looked down, fiddling with a loose thread on his duvet. A few seconds of silence, Chad very aware that his hand still rested on Ryan’s knee, and just how close they were sitting. His arm brushed up against Ryan’s and he suddenly felt very hot.

“You kinda look like the guy,” Chad said, moving his hand to gesture again at the poster.

“What?” Ryan asked, looking up.

“All stoic and… Majestic. And kind of pissed off.”

Ryan smirked. “Uh huh. I think that’s a woman.”

Chad smiled. “Ok, the same, minus the blue eyeshadow.”

Ryan gave a small smile and went back to playing with the thread on his duvet. Chad could feel the warmth of his body next to him, but didn’t want to move. 

“What’s it about? For real,” he said, nudging Ryan with his shoulder.

Ryan nudged back. “It is about sixty-year-olds. Except, it’s about how they all messed up their lives when they were younger. It’s sad.”

“How’d they mess up?” Chad asked.

“One of the main characters, she was one of the showgirls in a vaudeville show. And when she was young, she was completely in love with this guy, Ben.”

“Uh huh,” Chad said, as Ryan checked to make sure he was listening.

“But Ben doesn’t love her, or at least doesn’t love her enough. So he ends up marrying her best friend and completely breaking her heart.”

Ryan turned his head to face Chad, talking faster now. “And then the whole show is them meeting again, and realizing they’re unhappy now because they married the wrong people, and all these dreams they had didn't happen. And basically they all regret their entire lives.”

“Wow,” Chad said. “That sounds super depressing.”

“Yeah, well. Sondheim,” Ryan gestured vaguely into the air. Chad made a note to look up this Sondheim guy when he got home. 

Ryan looked at Chad with narrowed eyes. “Why are you letting me talk about musicals? You can’t possibly find this interesting,” he said, playfully pushing Chad with his left hand.

Chad smiled, enjoying the warmth of Ryan’s hand on his arm. “Hey, in retribution I could tell you basketball statistics all day,” he said.

“Oh God, no,” Ryan laughed, throwing a hand over his face in mock-horror. “I’m so sorry, I won’t bore you with musical talk ever again.”

“No!” Chad said, more serious. “No, I love it. I love hearing you talk about them, I mean. You get all excited and… Cute.”

Ryan blushed furiously, looking positively abashed. Chad felt a little embarrassed himself, but what could he say? Ryan was, objectively, adorable.

“Next time, I’ll tell you about Bat Boy and really creep you out,” Ryan finally said.

“Is that like Batman the Musical? I would watch that,” Chad said.

Ryan pushed Chad’s shoulder again and rolled his eyes, chuckling. “You’re such a dork.”

The two continued talking, with enough playful nudges to make Chad very aware of how soft Ryan’s skin was, and how good he smelled, all afternoon. That day Chad realized that when Ryan was happy, he was very much like the sun: bright, warm, wonderful. And Chad felt positively golden in his rays.

\-------

“This is way too many hats for one man,” Paris said, breaking Chad from his reverie. He turned from the poster and walked towards Paris, who was standing in front of Ryan’s wardrobe. Many, many shirts hung inside, arranged by color, style, and Chad guessed designer. Against both doors of the wardrobe were hat racks, covered in dozens of hats in every style.

“I guess he did he leave his stuff, then,” Chad said.

“He might’ve taken off and left the hats. The first sweep didn’t find any wallet or a phone, so he probably has those. And you heard the greasespot out there,” Paris said, nodding out towards the kitchen and Todd, “Sounds like he ran out of money and bailed.”

“But his family–“

Paris shook her head. “Despite mommy dearest’s incessant calls to us, I don’t think this guy’s parents know what’s going on with him. The dad’s been out of the country on ‘business’ for months, and the mom couldn’t remember the last time she talked to him.”

Chad frowned. That didn’t sound right. “What about Sharpay?”

“Sharpay? Is that his dog?”

“No, his sister. I think. Something like that,” Chad added, covering his tracks.

“Oh, right. Rich people are weird. She’s in L.A, said she talked to him about a month ago, but she didn’t sound too warm and fuzzy about it. And none of them have exactly dropped everything to get on a plane and be here and search. I think the parents are bankrolling the sister, but Ryan’s on his own. I mean, if not, why isn’t he somewhere better, sans roommate?”

Chad nodded, thinking hard. He guessed Ryan could have decided to be independent from his parents after college. But even if not connected financially, Ryan had always been close to his mother and Sharpay. Him not speaking to his family for months at a time was definitely strange.

“I don’t see any signs of drugs,” Paris said, rustling through a few drawers. The initial search team had already done this sweep, but Paris liked to be extra thorough. “Anything over there?”

Chad had opened a black leather box on Ryan’s nightstand. Inside were photos, ticket stubs, and other memorabilia. A few of the photos featured Ryan with his arms around another guy, smiling happily for the camera.

“Looks like he had a boyfriend,” Chad said, handing a photo to Paris.

\----

After every corner of Ryan's room was searched to Paris's standards, the two returned to the kitchen to ask Todd a few more questions.

“I’ve got work to do, you know,” he said, irritated. Chad noted that he had not moved from his position on the stool and seemed to be doing nothing but reading the newspaper.

“We understand your time is valuable,” Chad said, hoping his sarcasm wasn't obvious. “We just have a few last questions. Did Ryan use any drugs?”

Todd shrugged. “Again, I hardly knew the guy, and I’m out of town a lot. He might’ve started a crack den in the basement for all I know.”

Chad was liking this guy less and less. “Thanks. Anyone you can point us to who would know?”

Todd shrugged again, and then said. “Wait, there was a guy who was here a few times. I think his name was Harry or Hector or something. Short, dark hair, glasses.”

Chad showed him the photo and Todd confirmed that this was, in fact, the guy. After some more badgering, they got Todd to confirm that yes, Ryan was always that neat and clean, and no, he hadn’t noticed anything missing from the apartment when he got back in town.

With their questions answered, the detectives left the apartment and got back into the car.

“I’ll get a floater to find anyone named Harry or Hector who Ryan is friends with on Facebook,” Paris said, phone already out and at the ready. “Report said Ryan wasn’t big on social media, but we’ll hope for the best.”

Chad nodded, thinking this again sounded odd. But he also remembered a drunken night a few years ago typing Ryan’s name into the little Facebook search bar, and finding nothing. Like the guy had already started to disappear, even then.

Half an hour later Paris got a call with a name and address, and the two were off to question Hector Mesuno, Ryan’s boyfriend.

Chad told himself he was ok with this, and then took another aspirin.


	4. Summer Days, Driftin' Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Everybody come and play  
> Throw every last care away  
> Lets go to the mall, today..."
> 
> \-----
> 
> High school Chad deals with feelings as he approaches the end of summer.

_Albuquerque, New Mexico_

_August, 2006_

\-------

Chad watched the people of West Galleria Mall with disinterest. It was the last few days of summer, September fast approaching, and the stores hummed in a back-to-school frenzy. Chad sat on the edge of the mall’s fountain, one still rock against a forceful current of stressed parents and children.

Chad idly flipped open his phone, but seeing no texts from Taylor, shoved it back in his jean pocket. He wished he could play Tetris to mitigate the boredom, but knew that would drain his battery and leave him stranded without a ride. As a scowling preteen stomped out of the Hollister to his left, followed by a harried mother, Chad’s thoughts went to Ryan. 

He felt a wistful pang – if only Ryan were here! Chad knew that Ryan would make even the deadly boring shopping mall fun. Ryan, somehow, made everything interesting. The two had spent more time together in the past month than they had during three years of high school combined, and Chad was only sorry they hadn’t become friends sooner. Ryan might even be more fun than Troy, Chad thought with a twinge of guilt.

Reminded of his best friend, Chad’s face clouded over. He tapped his fingers angrily on the fountain’s granite as he replayed their last conversation for the hundredth time. 

After shooting hoops in Troy’s backyard, the two had sat on the grass to cool off, looking out on the quiet street.

“You should stay for dinner,” Troy said, wiping his face with a towel.

“Sorry man, not tonight.”

“C’mon, my mom’s making meatloaf!” Troy slapped Chad on the back, all smiles and goodwill. “I think I even heard her mention apple pie,” he said, raising his eyebrows conspiratorially.

Chad turned and leaned over to tie his shoe, hiding his irritation. Usually the Bolton’s all-American suburban utopia didn’t bother him, but today the whole thing felt like a sham. He needed to go somewhere a little less Brady.

“I can’t,” Chad finally said, sitting up. “I’ve got plans.”

“I thought Gabby said she and Taylor–“

“I’ve got friends besides you and Taylor!” Chad interrupted, more aggressive than he intended.

“Whoah, relax. I know that,” Troy said, taken aback. “Are you still mad about Lava Springs? ‘Cause I’ve apologized a thousand times. I was a tool.”

“No, I know, it’s not that,” Chad shook his head, not sure why he was being so defensive. He said his next words with careful indifference, looking out at the hazy street lamps. “I’m seeing a movie with Ryan.”

Troy frowned and stared at Chad, who did not meet his eye. “Ryan Evans? Since when are you friends with him?”

“Since Lava Springs. He’s cool.”

“Yeah? Isn't he… you know…” Troy raised his arms at the elbow and made his wrists go limp, and then mimed a hair flip.

Chad stood up like a shot, adrenaline pumping. “Fuck you,” he spat. Casual indifference be damned.

“Hey, I was only joking,” Troy said, standing up as well, looked bruised. He continued matter-of-factly, “You should know though, he is a faggot. I heard some of the guys talking. Apparently he came on to Carter in homeroom–”

Chad turned around and walked away, blood pounding in his ears. It took all of his concentration not to punch his friend square in the jaw. Instead, he managed to get into his car, turn on the ignition, and drive away, leaving his friend hurt and confused behind him.

Later that evening Chad wasn't able to focus on the movie, a silly one about a plane full of snakes, and felt horrible when Ryan commented that Chad wasn’t his usual cheerful self. Chad had muttered something about being tired, but really he was burning with fury on the inside. He felt so angry, appalled that even his best friend could be so narrow minded. And ashamed of himself, too; these were the people he chose as friends. Is that how Ryan saw him, an idiot jock? The thought made his whole body cringe, and prevented him from picking up the phone to call Ryan for the next few days. Now it was Saturday, meaning they hadn’t talked for almost a whole week. And Chad missed his friend.

Chad sighed and pulled out his cell again, flipping open the screen and pulling up Ryan’s name. As he was about to press the ‘call’ button, he saw a familiar figure walk out of the food court to his left.

“Ryan!” Chad called out, waving madly.

Ryan paused, looking around, and then smiled when he saw Chad. He waved and walked over, carefully balancing seven very large shopping bags in both hands.

“I’m so happy to see you,” Chad said, jumping up from the fountain and giving Ryan a quick hug. He smelled good, like fresh laundry.

“It’s good to see you, too,” Ryan said, his face a little pink. “I was worried you were mad at me for picking that awful movie. I swear, I did not think it would be that literal.”

Another wave of guilt cascaded over Chad and he instinctively reached out and put his hand on Ryan’s arm. “No, of course not. I’m sorry, I was just… Dealing with some stuff this week.”

Ryan furrowed his brow, but nodded. Chad put his hands in his pockets and looked around, suddenly nervous to meet Ryan’s intense gaze.

“Taylor got back from San Diego,” Chad continued. “So she wanted to do stuff. I mean, hang out. That’s why I’m here. She made me– I mean Taylor and Gabriella, they’re shopping.” Chad stopped, well aware he was rambling. “You’re shopping too? I mean, yes, obviously,” Chad chuckled self-consciously, gesturing to Ryan’s bags. 

Unable to bare the silence, Chad looked at Ryan's face. His friend had an odd, quizzical expression and was studying Chad closely, lips pursed. 

Finally, he said, “That sounds like fun.” His voice sounded strained, and he gave a tightlipped smile.

Chad shrugged and hopped back on the edge of the fountain, trying to look normal. Inside his heart was breaking, afraid all his worst fears had come true: Ryan hated him. 

“Come sit with me,” Chad said, hoping he didn't sound too desperate. He patted the space next to him.

Ryan just frowned into the middle distance, biting his lip. Chad looked at him, worried. “Are you okay?”

Ryan, still with a glazed look in his eyes, sat next to Chad on the fountain, leaving a good two feet between them. Chad rolled his eyes and scooted up close to him, so their sides were touching. Ryan laughed in surprise, his trance seemingly broken.

“Sorry, I got a little distracted,” he said, his voice back to its usual warm tenor.

Chad grinned. “I noticed,” he said, bumping Ryan’s leg with his own. Relief washed over him; they were okay, after all. “So what’d you get?” 

Ryan looked at the bags at his feet. “Oh, just a few things.”

“A few?” Chad raised his eyebrows.

Ryan gave him a ridiculously haughty stare and in a voice very close to Sharpay’s said, “Some of us care about looking fabulous, Danforth.” 

The two burst out laughing. Chad, giggling uncontrollably, rested his head on Ryan’s shoulder and said, “That was terrifying. Please never do it again.”

Ryan patted Chad on the knee. “I’m so sorry. For your mental health, I won’t ever impersonate–“

“Well. What do we have here.” The familiar voice cut Ryan off mid-sentence and filled Chad with dread. He looked up.

“Hi, Sharpay."

“Aren’t you two just adorable,” she said, looking at Chad and Ryan with a condescending smirk. Chad felt his face go warm.

Ryan sighed and stood up, picking up his bags. “Shut up, Shar. You’ll scare him off.”

“Maybe that’s for the best,” Sharpay said, giving Ryan a significant look. The two glared at each other for a moment, and Chad sensed he was witnessing a silent sibling conversation. He cleared his throat and stood up.

“Ryan didn’t mention you were here. Are you shopping too?” Chad nodded at Sharpay’s comparable lack of bags, hands free save for a bright pink smoothie.

“No, I’m having no luck today. I am so over cargo pants,” she said, slurping her smoothie. She offered it to Ryan, who scrunched up his nose and pushed it away.

“I don’t want your spit.”

“We’re twins, our spit is the same. Drink it, Ryan.” Sharpay emphasized the next words. “You’ll be fine.” She proffered him the straw again.

Ryan shoved the drink aside. “I told you, I’m not hungry.” 

The two stood in another glaring match, engaging in an argument had so many times they no longer needed to say the words aloud. 

Chad, mystified and uncomfortable, said, “I think I’m gonna go meet Taylor.”

Sharpay turned to him, looking irritated. “You’re still here?”

“Uh, yes. But going. I’ll text you later, Ryan,” he said, giving a small wave to his friend before hurrying off in the other direction, eager to escape the wrath of Sharpay. He texted Taylor, _where r u?_ , and ducked into Wet Seal to hide.


	5. Your Distant Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Open your heart, my dear, and lie to me.  
> Make me believe that love's a lie.  
> Tell me we're young again, and songs will be sung again,  
> and try to see, I need you to lie to me."
> 
> \-----
> 
> Chad and Paris meet Ryan's boyfriend.

\-------

_Dumbo, New York_

_August, 2017_

\-------

Hector Mesuno’s apartment sat on a run-down street in Dumbo, squished between a laundromat and abandoned pizza shop. Chad sniffed as they got out of the car.

“Smells like onions.”

“Or sewage,” Paris said, grimacing. “I hate Brooklyn,” she muttered as they entered Hector’s shoddy building. After being buzzed up, a young man with red hair and a very stoned expression opened the door.

“You’re not the delivery guy,” he said after a moment.

“Detective Danforth, this is Detective Geller,” Chad said.

“Shit,” said the man at the door. “I mean, what can I do for you–“

“We’re looking for Hector,” Paris said, fixing the young man with her coldest stare.

“Aw, sweet. Hector!” The guy said, turning from the door and waving in the detectives. “Come in, guys.”

Chad was immediately hit by the stink of weed. Paris coughed. “Ever open a window?”

“Nah, it smells nasty outside, man,” said the roommate, too dense to notice Paris’s prolonged scowl. Luckily, Paris’s next jab was cut short by Hector, who entered the room with a smile. Chad recognized him from Ryan’s photographs and was dismayed to find he was just as handsome in real life.

“So sorry about that,” Hector said, genially reaching out his hand to shake the detectives'. “I had my headphones on. You must be with the police?

Chad had called on the way there to make sure Hector was home. Introductions through, Hector lead them to the chairs in the living room. “What is this about, exactly?”

Chad noted how put-together Hector looked. Dressed in dark jeans and a fitted blue button-up, his black hair was smoothed back in a perfect coif. Combined with his thick, square glasses, the guy looked like he could be in an Apple commercial. 

“You know Ryan Evans?” Paris asked.

“Yes, I know Ryan–is he alright? What’s happened?” Hector asked, instantly concerned.

“Ryan was reported missing two days ago,” Chad said, studying Hector’s face for a reaction.

Hector went very pale, but otherwise did not change in his composure. “Missing? That’s horrible,” he said. “Do you have any idea what happened?”

Chad ignored this. The man’s obvious affability was putting him on edge. “When did you last talk to Ryan?”

“Oh, it must have been, let me see… At least a month ago.”

Paris and Chad exchanged glances. “So you aren’t dating?”

“We broke up,” Hector said, surprised. “Two months ago.”

“He broke up with you?” Chad asked with some hostility. Paris gave him a look that he knew meant: chill.

“No, actually, I broke up with him. Although I expect he would have done the same, given a few more weeks.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He had lost interest,” Hector said shortly, and for the first time he showed a flicker of something other than goodwill. “Everything was great, and then he stopped wanting to do anything together. And when we were together, he was gloomy and miserable half the time. I figured he was bored and possibly seeing someone else, so I cut him lose,” Hector said this without emotion, like he was used to this turn of events.

“You don’t seem too upset about it,” Paris observed.

Hector shrugged and pushed his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “We had only been seeing each other a few months. He was sweet, but it was for the best.”

“When you were dating, did he mention anywhere he might go to hide out, lay low? Another apartment or house, or a place owned by his family?” Paris asked.

Hector frowned. “Ryan didn’t talk about his family much. As for where he might go…” Hector clicked his tongue thoughtfully. “I can’t think of any particular place. He was sort of a homebody, from what I could tell.”

“You mentioned you thought he was seeing someone else. What makes you say that?” Chad asked. The Ryan he knew would never cheat; it was against his strict moral code.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Hector said, waving his hand in the air. “That’s how these things go. He was disappearing a lot, bailing on me when we had plans, especially towards the end. He always said he was seeing an ‘old friend’, but I know what that means,” Hector smirked.

“Did this friend have a name?” Chad asked.

“Yeah, Kay. He said she was an old friend from school, but he never let me meet her. I don’t even know if she exists,” he said.

Chad made a note in his pad to look up ‘Kay’.

“Did Ryan use any drugs? Pot, or anything harder?” Paris asked.

Hector hesitated for only a fraction of as second before answering, “No, no Ryan was pretty straight laced.”

“Your apartment seems less so,” Paris said, nodding towards a hookah pipe resting on the window sill.

“I, uh, work in a medical marijuana lab,” Hector said, and then in response to Paris’s raised eyebrows, “I’m serious. I can show you my ID. But Ryan didn’t even smoke weed. Said he didn’t like to lose control.”

A few more procedural questions, and the detectives bid farewell to Hector, leaving him with a number to call in case he thought of anything else. Once back in the car, Chad grunted, “Medical marijuana lab. Please!”

"You don’t believe him?” Paris asked mildly.

“No, I’m sure he’s telling the truth. But I’m sure he also has his own recreational ‘lab’ on the roof. Can we go back and bust him for it?”

“Jeez, since when are you for criminalizing pot?” Paris asked.

“I’m not. That guy just rubbed me the wrong way. So pleasant and accommodating. Like he didn’t even care that Ryan’s missing,” Chad said. He was aware he was close to yelling, but couldn’t stop himself. “His boyfriend doesn’t care, the roommate barely noticed he’d gone, his whole family doesn’t give a damn. What is wrong with these people!”

“Maybe Ryan’s an asshole,” Paris said easily.

“Ryan is not an asshole!” Chad hit the dashboard of the car with his hand.

“What is up with you?” Paris said, turning to look at Chad. “Tell me.”

Chad sighed and did not return her gaze, but stared resolutely out the car window. A minute or two passed, the two sitting in silence, all scenarios running through Chad’s head. If he told Paris, maybe she wouldn’t think it was a big deal, and they could keep working on the case. Even if he was kicked off, it might be for the best. Even one afternoon of interviews was sending him down a mental rabbit hole.

But just as Chad opened his mouth to come clean, Paris’s phone buzzed, and on reading the message she snapped her fingers happily.

“The security footage from Ryan’s building finally came through. Hopefully we can get the exact time he last left the apartment. Oh, and good news,” she said, reading another message. “A woman named Kay is connected to Ryan on social, and we’ve got an address. Queens.”

Paris typed a quick reply and then paused and looked at Chad. 

“Maybe I should take this one, while you go back and sift through the footage,” she said.

Chad knew she was offering him an easy out; any floater could watch the security tapes without a detective’s supervision. But he nodded. “Let me out down here, I’ll take the subway.”

Chad savored the long ride back to Manhattan, focusing on the sway of the train as he tried to calm his nerves. His whole body ached as his mind swam with images of Ryan, attempting to align the boy he remembered to this sad, isolated man he searched for. Chad felt a sudden wave of anxiety: he was worried for Ryan, of course, but not just because he was missing. 

Chad had always assumed, or hoped, that Ryan would find happiness after East High. He had moments of happiness in his youth, but Chad knew he also struggled with being different, shunned or mocked by his peers. Chad thought surely Ryan would thrive in New York, find happiness, allowed to be his true, wonderful self without fear of rejection. 

But this Ryan seemed just as lost.


	6. Putting It Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Every moment makes a contribution  
> Every little detail plays a part..."
> 
> \-------
> 
> Chad and Paris make a curious discovery that brings the case back to East High.

\-------

_Manhattan, New York_

_August, 2017_

\-------

The security footage of Ryan’s apartment building foyer was grainy, dark, and made Chad squint until he had double vision. After a good three hours of searching, Chad determined that Ryan walked out of his apartment five days ago, doing nothing odd or noteworthy. Footage from a 7-Eleven across the street showed Ryan’s pixelated blonde head ducking into a car down the road before driving off.

Chad ran through the footage a few more times to be sure, and then texted Paris this information. He leaned back in his chair, breathing in slow, considering. Ryan had been gone for five whole days. Five days was a long time to be missing; Chad knew this. In another situation, five days missing and Chad would expect a body to turn up. The thought made a chill run down his spine.

But having no evidence of foul play, no phone, no wallet; the circumstances were different. The footage all but proved Ryan fled. Ryan had gotten into the right side of the car; someone else was driving, Chad guessed the new boyfriend Hector was worried about. Chad quickly typed out a request for the traffic camera footage of that intersection to confirm the license plate.

Chad knew he should be happy that Ryan was likely safe. Instead, he felt the nagging sensation that this wasn’t right. Chad ran his hand through his hair and frowned at his computer screen. He was being silly, projecting his own loneliness onto a man who probably hadn’t thought about Chad in years. Just because seventeen-year-old Ryan would never drop everything and run didn't mean twenty-eight-year old Ryan wouldn’t. Chad might as well be considering the motives of a stranger.

Chad sighed and looked at his watch: nearly 7 PM. He felt drained and dejected, like his past was shutting a door in his face, telling him to focus on his present issues instead of getting lost in memories. Just then he got a call from Paris, who had not yet returned from her interview with Kay.

“So he’s a runner. Glad I wasted all afternoon,” Paris said without preamble.

“Looks that way. I’m getting the footage of the plate now so we can give Mrs. Evans a name and wrap this up,” Chad said.

“I bet she’ll be thrilled to hear it,” Paris said. “Mothers love to know that their children don’t want anything to do with them.”

“So I’ve heard,” Chad replied. “You get anything from the friend?”

“Said they go way back, like to meet up and talk about the ‘good old days.’ Last saw him a little over a week ago, had dinner in midtown and hasn’t heard from his since. No mention of a new boyfriend or any plans to leave the area, but he was probably keeping it quiet. Basically useless.”

“Great. You coming back in so we can finish this up?” Chad asked.

There was a pause, and Paris said, a little sheepishly, “Why not finish it tomorrow morning?”

“You’re joking,” Chad said. “I thought you wanted to win the ‘most hours in the office’ award this year.”

“I’ll stay an extra five tomorrow. Look, it’s shift change, so we’ll be waiting forever for the plate footage. Once we track the guy down we’ll have to wait till tomorrow to tell the mother anyways.”

Chad nodded, suspicious. Paris rarely took off of work, save for one reason. “You’re meeting Lucy, aren’t you?”

He heard Paris sigh on the other line. “You don’t have to sound so disapproving. She just wants to talk.”

“Doesn’t she always just want to talk?” Chad asked, exasperated. He didn’t understand why Paris couldn’t resist running to her ex-wife whenever she called. _Ex_ being the key word. “And every time you end up in a screaming match, and then drink a whole bottle of vodka alone, and then call me sobbing–“

“–That was one time and I will kill you if you say one more word!” Paris yelled from the other end. “I can take care of myself. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And with that, the line went dead.

Chad threw his phone on the desk and wondered how his partner could be so smart but so dumb at the same time. He had met Lucy once last year, when the two were fast approaching the end of their near decade of marriage, and he had thought she was fine, if not a little eccentric. But her insistence on calling Paris every few weeks when she was the one who had asked for the divorce… Chad shook his head, feeling thoroughly fed up with other people’s love lives. He really needed a boyfriend.

Checking his messages and seeing no updates on the license plate, Chad decided to follow his partner’s advice and head home early. He was exhausted and looked forward to some Netflix, sleep, and closing the book on high school once and for all.

\---- 

Chad managed to get to work on time, feeling more like his usual self. He bounded into the office and hurriedly turned on his computer, eager to get Ryan’s case out of the way so he could focus on real work. He was surprised to see that he had beat Paris to the office for the first time in weeks, and prayed it was not due to more Lucy drama.

Seeing the traffic cam footage had at last come through, Chad scribbled down the license plate number and was about to enter it into the system when Paris walked in. She was wearing sunglasses and clutching her coffee like it was a lifeline.

“Morning!” Chad said.

Pari gave him a scowl and plopped down into her chair. She took a loud slurp from her coffee and held her head in her hands, but said nothing.

“And how are you today?” Chad asked, exaggerating his sunny expression for her benefit.

“I need you to stop talking,” Paris muttered into her coffee.

“Sure. First though, I want you to know I won't say ‘I told you so.’”

“How generous,” Paris said through gritted teeth. “Now shut up. Evans case done yet?”

“Pulling it up now,” Chad said, turning back to his computer.

“Your speed continues to amaze me, Detective.”

“You’re the one showing up to work hung over. On a Wednesday.”

“Fine,” Paris grumbled. “We’re both terrible.”

“Geller! Danforth!” Captain Ortega’s voice boomed through the precinct, making Paris wince. “What the hell is going on with the Evans case?”

“Just finishing it up, sir. Looks like Ryan left town with a new boyfriend. They’re probably drinking piña coladas in Miami by now.”

“Well that is interesting, considering the call I just got from Derby Evans. Woman screamed my ear off.”

Chad gulped and felt his hands get sweaty. This couldn't be good.

“Seems she just flew in to the Hamptons and found her house burgled. Broken glass, things missing, and blood.”

 _Shit._ “Not Ryan’s?”

“Considering she’s also found Ryan’s keys and cell phone, I’d say it’s pretty fucking likely. This just turned into a top priority suspected homicide. And where the fuck were you?”

Ortega was close to yelling now, and the few other officers in the precinct were staying perfectly silent to allow maximum humiliation. Chad did his best to look humble but competent and shot a glance at Paris. She had taken off her sunglasses but was staring straight down, looking ghostly white. 

Chad cleared his throat and said, “We assumed Brooklyn already checked the family properties.”

“Well they didn’t, did they? I need you and Geller to quit fucking around and get on this. Find out who Evans was prancing off with and bring him in, then get your asses to the Hamptons,” Ortega barked. Chad nodded.

Ortega wrapped his knuckles on the desk, punctuating his lecture, and added, “I’m giving you four floaters and Johnson and Pilrey. Maybe the extra hands will help you two do your fucking jobs.” With that, he turned and stormed out of the room.

Chad waited for the usual office hum to start up again before leaning over to glare at Paris. “Thanks for coming to my defense, partner,” he hissed.

Paris did not look at him, staying very still. She was looking very white and sweaty. Finally, she said, “I need to talk to you.” Her voice was small but urgent.

Chad shook his head, irritated, and quickly typed the plate number into the database. As the information appeared, he continued, quietly so no one else would hear. “You know Ortega only likes us when we’re the best. Otherwise, he remembers that he didn’t want us here in the first place.”

Paris repeated, a little louder. “I need to tell you something. Now.”

But Chad didn’t hear her. He was staring at his computer, feeling the peculiar sensation of his head getting lighter while his stomach sank like a stone. The tiny words on the screen felt like knives.

The car, a blue Honda Civic, was registered to a Ms. Kelsi “Kay” Nielsen.

Chad looked from computer screen to Paris, dumbfounded. Kelsi had driven somewhere with Ryan five days ago, and he hadn’t been seen since. Kelsi had lied to Paris yesterday. Ryan’s phone and blood were at a house in the Hamptons.

Chad’s head spun and he stood up abruptly, knocking over his chair. He had to get out. Peripherally aware that Paris was following him, he raced out the doors, down the hallway, and into the stairwell, where he crouched down. He focused on his breathing: in, out. In, out.

“Chad,” Paris was standing in front of him, her face a mixture of illness and concern.

Chad looked up. He knew he should say something, but any words were trapped in his throat. He turned towards the ground instead, focusing on a dent in the stair. The paint had peeled away to reveal an ugly brown rust.

“I need to tell you something,” Chad finally managed. He knew he had to tell Paris. There was no avoiding it now.

Paris crouched down as well, sitting in front of him. “Me too,” she said, exhaling. 

Chad closed his eyes. Best to jump in. “I know Ryan. He and I went to high school together.”

“Oh,” Paris said, sounding surprised. “Know him, know him? In the biblical sense?”

Chad opened his eyes and gave Paris a withering look. “We, uh, dated,” he continued, determined to stick to the Reader’s Digest version of their relationship. “But I haven’t seen him, or heard from him or anything in ten years. Only…” He paused. “I know his family. And I know Kelsi, too.”

“Kelsi?”

“I guess she goes by Kay now. Her full name’s Kelsi, she went to high school with us. And that car Ryan got in five days ago? Registered in her name.”

Paris suddenly pounded her fist on the ground with a reverberant bang. “Fuck!”

Chad jumped. “Jesus! That’s what gets a reaction?”

Paris covered her face with her hand and muttered something unintelligible. 

“What are you mumbling?” Chad asked.

“I slept with her last night!” Paris said with force. “Kelsi, Kay, whatever. Fuck.” Her foot tapped the ground nervously, a ticking time bomb.

Now it was Chad’s turn to curse. “You’re kidding.”

Paris shook her head and dragged her hand over her face, looking miserable. “I wish. I thought we were done with this mess.”

“But how – what happened?” Chad asked, baffled. He had never known Paris to break the rules. Ever.

“I was sad and pathetic, okay? Lucy and I had a horrible fight, and she called me a cold bitch, which she knows I hate because it’s sexist, not to mention cliché. So I called her a withholding masochist, and she left. Leaving me to drink alone.”

Chad felt a pang of guilt, remembering how he had mocked Paris in her misery. “You could’ve called me,” he said.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” Paris said. “And Kay was there, and we had gotten along so great during the interview, and then it just… Happened.” Paris finished, lamely. And then, rage refueled, “How was I to know she was about to be our number one suspect in a possible homicide? Fuck!” She threw her hands up in defeat.

The two sat in shared anguish for another minute. The regret in the air was palpable.

“What do we do?” Chad finally asked. “Tell Ortega to give the case to another team?”

Paris snorted. “He’ll want to know why, and then he’ll fire us. What you said back there is right. We can’t tell him.”

Chad thought for a second, chewing his lip. Then, making a decision, he said, “I’ll take the lead on anything to do with Kelsi, and you take over for any stuff with the Evans family. We don’t tell anyone else what we just talked about. Sound good?”

Paris considered this, and then nodded slowly. She stood up. “Danforth, I’ve never been so glad that you’re my partner.”

The two straightened themselves out and re-entered the precinct. Just before they entered the briefing room, Paris paused and turned to Chad. “We really are terrible detectives,” she said.

And this time, Chad had to agree.


	7. What More Can I Say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Let's just say, I'm glad he's mine  
> Awake, asleep..."
> 
> \---
> 
> The first day of senior year.

_Albuquerque, New Mexico_

_September, 2006_

\-------

Chad was finding it very hard to focus. It was the first day of senior year, and he had only been up for a few hours. But in that short time his brain cluttered itself with inane questions, thoughts, and images, all about one person: Ryan. The Evans boy had only been on vacation a few days, but to Chad it felt like weeks. 

While eating his morning Pop-Tart, Chad wondered what Ryan ate for breakfast. He figured something healthy and pretentious like imported yogurt and fruit, and a weird kind of tea. His thoughts unraveled from there: whether Ryan looked forward to school starting, if they would have any of the same classes; would they have lunch together, or would Ryan disappear to the rehearsal rooms like he usually did? Even getting dressed that morning, Chad remembered that Ryan had complimented the deep green color of the shirt he picked out. This made him feel extra silly, especially when he realized that Ryan was definitely not thinking about Chad while relaxing on the beaches of Baja.

Chad needed a distraction from his distraction.

Playing basketball was the only way Chad managed to clear his head all weekend, so he got to school early and took advantage of the empty gym. He dribbled the ball up and down the court, focusing on the echoing squeak of his sneakers against the polished floor. 

He was just starting to work up a sweat when the gym door swung open with a bang, breaking his concentration. He turned, annoyed, to the chattering couple who entered, and felt his irritation grow when he saw who it was.

Troy and Gabriella were giggling to each other, holding hands and smiling like idiots, not even noticing Chad standing a few yards away. Chad bounced the basketball once, loudly, making them both jump.

Gabriella spoke first, running up to Chad with a big smile and a hug. “Chad, it’s so good to see you!”

Chad hugged her back, keeping one eye on Troy, who hovered a short distance behind his girlfriend. His arms were crossed and he was avoiding looking at the two, staring resolutely at the bleachers.

“We didn’t see you much after Lava Springs,” Gabby said, stepping back from the hug and pulling Troy towards her. Chad wondered how much he had told his girlfriend.

“Yeah, sorry,” he said with a half-smile to Gabby. “Busy.”

“It’s okay,” Gabby said, and then paused. Apprehensive, she continued, “Troy mentioned you were spending a lot of time with your family. Is everything alright with them?”

Chad let out a snort and dribbled the basketball. He spoke to Troy, who continued to avoid eye contact. “My family? Really?”

Troy wrapped one arm around Gabby and said defensively, “I didn’t hear from you. I guessed.”

“Good guess,” Chad muttered acerbically. Feeling claustrophobic in the big gym, Chad bounced the ball one more time and then started towards the door. “I’ve got to get to class. See you later,” he said, waving at Gabby.

As he walked out he heard the sounds of partnered discord behind him and felt a pang of guilt for putting Gabby in the middle of their fight. But it was too late to change that now; besides, Troy would likely come up with another brilliant explanation for Chad’s coldness and everyone’s favorite power couple would remain intact.

Now feeling more stressed than he had before the gym, Chad hurried to his locker and set off to find Ryan. Seeing him might not help Chad’s concentration, but it would certainly improve his mood.

But there was no sign of Ryan in homeroom or first period. Chad searched the hallway between classes and wondered if the Evans twins were still in Baja, skipping the first day of school in favor of suntans and boys in bathing suits. The thought made Chad inexplicably jealous.

By fourth period, Chad had convinced himself this was true, and was now annoyed at Ryan, as well. Brooding silently in chem before class began, he was just estimating how quickly Ryan could be seduced by a dashing lifeguard when Sharpay sat down a few seats away.

Chad jumped out of his seat and slid onto the desk in front of Sharpay. She was texting furiously with perfectly manicured hands and did not look up. 

“Hi Sharpay,” Chad tried, giving a little wave. “You got a second?”

After another minute Sharpay flipped the pink Razr shut with a snap and looked up. “What?”

“How was Baja?”

Sharpay glared suspiciously. “Who wants to know?”

Chad shrugged his shoulders. “Just making friendly conversation.”

“Well can you make it somewhere else? You’re in my bubble,” she said, indicating around her with a dramatic flourish.

Chad held back an eye roll and slumped off the desk. “So sorry.” And then, as if the thought had just occurred to him, “Hey, where’s Ryan?”

“He’s at home. Sick,” Sharpay said.

“Sick with what?” Chad started to ask, but was cut off by a loud buzz from Sharpay’s phone. She flipped it open and returned to texting, and Chad guessed this was his cue to return to his desk.

He quickly flipped open his own phone and surreptitiously typed out a text:

_Sharpay says ur sick! u should have told me, I would bring soup_

A few seconds later, Chad’s phone buzzed.

_Yeah bad timing… Can’t believe you got Sharpay to talk to you! You are very brave_

Chad smiled to himself and quickly hid his phone in his pocket as Dr. Amstein started going over the syllabus. But Chad wasn’t listening to the information about office hours and equipment rentals; he was busy devising a plan.

—-

At five past six Chad walked up the wide driveway to the Evans’ house. The term “house” was not accurate, Chad thought as he took in the place before him. Built into a mountain’s steep incline that had made Chad’s car sputter and halt driving up, the estate towered above the red and orange rocks as the sole building in the vicinity. A combination of glass and stone rising at sharp angles into the sky, Chad was sure he was supposed to be impressed by the architecture but mainly felt himself losing his balance as he looked up at the twisting roof. Ringing the doorbell, he was careful to keep his eyes focused straight ahead.

So relieved that Sharpay did not answer the door, Chad just stared at the woman who did. He had never seen her before, and she looked at him expectantly.

“I’m here to see Ryan?” Chad finally managed.

The woman nodded and let him in, and then closed the door behind him. “Mr. Evans is resting. Would you like me to call for him?”

“Uh, no, that’s okay,” Chad said, floundering. “I’m his friend from school, so I brought his homework. Could I bring it up to him?”

The woman nodded and Chad thanked her before going up the staircase at a jog. He knocked lightly on Ryan’s door, and hearing a response, cautiously walked in.

At first he thought the room was empty and he had only heard the television, as all he saw was a mass of blankets on the bed. But then he heard a small cry and the blankets moved, revealing a flannel-clad leg.

“Ryan? Are you okay?”

Ryan’s pale face poked out from the duvet. He looked livid. “What are you doing here!”

“I wanted to see you,” Chad said. “The woman downstairs let me in?”

“Lonny!” Ryan said to himself, hitting the duvet with a fist. “She shouldn’t have done that.”

“Sorry, I–“ Chad said, starting to walk towards him.

Ryan quickly sat up in bed and covered his face with his hands.“No, stay there! You can’t see me.”

“Okay, jeez,” Chad said, freezing in place. This was a bad idea. Ryan wasn’t like Chad; he hadn't been stuck in a mental loop for the past three days. Showing up like this was stupid. 

“Maybe I’ll go, then.” Chad said, shuffling back towards the door.

Ryan mumbled something and held up his hand again, keeping one over his face. Then louder, “No, no. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

The room was silent save for the soft sounds of the television, where Julie Andrews sang about her favorite things. Chad waited, not sure what to do.

Finally Ryan spoke, sounding defeated. “Sorry. You can stay. Just– don’t look too closely.”

“At?”

Ryan gestured wildly at his face. “I’m sick! I’m disgusting and sweaty and horrifying to look at.”

Chad sighed in frustration, but could not stop the relieved smile from spreading over his face. “That’s what you’re worried about!” Chad cried as he leapt onto the foot of the bed. “You are ridiculous.”

Ryan kept one hand hovering over his face, but Chad could see a resigned smile creeping over his lips. “I am not. I’m trying to be considerate and not scar you for life.”

Chad reached out and gently pushed Ryan’s hand down, out of the way of his face. He looked thoughtfully at Ryan for a moment, and then said, “I think I’ll survive.”

Ryan looked down and smiled. “Sorry for freaking out. It’s nice of you to come see me.”

“I missed you at school. Do you feel any better?”

Ryan shrugged and looked down. “I guess.”

“Is it the flu, do you think?”

Ryan shrugged again. “Probably.”

“You are chatty tonight.”

“Sorry,” Ryan said, yawning. “Being in bed all day makes me sleepy.”

“I was going to ask about your trip, but if you’re too tired…”

“The trip was fine,” Ryan said. “Beaches. Sand. Ocean.”

“And being with your family all weekend?”

Something dark flickered across Ryan’s face, but the smile quickly returned. “It was fine. Everything was fine. Lots of virgin piña coladas.”

Chad jumped up, remembering the reason for his visit. He reached down and grabbed the brown paper bag. “I brought soup!”

Ryan laughed. “You seriously brought me soup?”

“Yes!” Chad took the plastic container out of the bag and displayed it proudly. “Vegetable and noodle soup. From the deli on Keller, ‘cause they do the best soup in Albuquerque.”

Chad watched as Ryan’s complexion gained a green hue. “You can’t eat, can you?” He asked, putting the soup down on the end table.

Ryan’s face fell. “Not really, no. Maybe a little later…”

Chad nodded. “I’ll try not to take your illness personally,” he joked, getting back on the bed and leaning against the backboard so he was sitting next to Ryan. “When I get the flu I don’t want to hear anyone even talk about food for at least 24 hours.”

Ryan nodded and yawned again. He leaned his head on Chad’s shoulder, and said in a low, sleepy voice, “You’re nice.”

Chad looked down at the boy. His eyes were closed and he looked peaceful. "You're nice, too."

A few moments passed and Chad thought Ryan was asleep, but then he muttered, "You're too nice."

Chad absentmindedly stroked his hair, enjoying the softness on his fingertips. He made a soothing shushing noise. "Go to sleep."

Ryan muttered something else that Chad could barely hear. It sounded something like, "It's good, but it hurts." 

\-----

Chad sat like that, leaning on Ryan and watching the television, until he dozed off too. When he woke up the sky outside was dark and cloudy, thunderclouds rumbling in the distance. Ryan was breathing deeply on Chad’s shoulder, his hair brushing his neck. 

Chad watched Ryan’s perfectly angelic face for a moment, and then carefully shifted the boy’s head so it rested on a pillow. He quietly got up from the bed, turned off the television, and slipped out the door.


	8. At the End of an Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Everything’s glowing  
> All is sublime  
> At the end of an island  
> In summertime"
> 
> \----
> 
> Chad and Paris take a trip to the Hamptons.

_Southampton, New York_

_August, 2017_

\-------

Driving out of the city, the stacked concrete gave way to suburban side roads of Long Island, and then the green and blue expanse of the ocean. The beaches out Chad’s window got progressively emptier, transforming from crowded tourist spots to pristine land claimed by yacht clubs and Mayflower descendants. As they travelled parallel to miles of vacant white sand and sparkling blue water, Chad got an eerie feeling that they were the only people around.

“You can practically smell the money,” Paris said bitterly, also noticing the change in scenery. The two hadn’t spoken much on the two hour drive, Chad doing his best to distract himself from the rolling nausea in his stomach and guessing Paris was doing the same.

“It’s pretty,” Chad replied, as a mass of tall trees emerged to their right, jutting up against the sand. “You ever been here?”

Paris shook her head. “My parents preferred the Vineyard. I think they came here once, but didn't take me. We definitely didn’t own a house here.”

“Must be expensive.”

“Astronomical. The Evans must be richer than God.”

“Close to it,” Chad said, remembering their giant house far up in the mountains of Albuquerque.

“So, the mother,” Paris ventured, glancing over the steering wheel at Chad. “What’s she like?”

Chad groaned. “Can we not talk about this? I don’t need the reminder that this could all come crashing down any second.”

“Hey, might as well use it to our advantage! We’ve got the inside track. Come on, tell me before we get there. Will she remember you? Do we need to come up with a story?”

Chad thought back to Derby Evans. There was little to recall; she blended into the wash of money and entitlement that came with most of Chad’s memories of the Ryan’s family.

“I don’t think she’d remember me. She was your run of the mill, wealthy, stay-at-home mom,” Chad said. “She and Ryan were close,” he added, remembering how she had always hugged her son so tightly, showing genuine warmth under that veneer of botox and tanning spray. In Ryan’s stories about his family, his mother was often cast as the protector, if not defending him at least not actively showing disdain. 

At the GPS’s instruction, Paris took a sharp right off the main road, taking them down a winding path surrounded by trees. “We’ll keep you in the background, just in case,” Paris said. “It should be just up here,” she said, turning again and peering out the window.

The fortress before them made Chad balk. He had been prepared for a mansion, but this was something else. A looming white building in Colonial style, it looked to be at least three stories and was framed by a thick grouping of birch trees, rising high above the roof. Chad glanced out the back car window, but the ocean had disappeared, replaced by a wall of greenery. If they hadn't just turned a corner from the water, he would not have known they were on an island at all.

Paris let out a low whistle. “Talk about secluded.”

Chad nodded, getting out of the car. Crime scene tape quartered off the area, though there was clearly no one around for miles. A large man in a rumpled suit was talking to a someone in a forensics uniform, but on seeing Paris and Chad turned to meet them at the car.

“Detectives,” he said, taking off a rubber glove and reaching out his other hand to shake theirs. “Sergeant Milone, Southampton Town Police. I got a call saying you’d be meeting me here.” His voice was nasal with a hint of Jersey, betraying his non-local roots.

Paris nodded. “Geller, this is Danforth. Thanks for waiting for us.”

“They’re finishing up the last few rooms,” Milone said, nodding at the house. “Looks like a break in; we’ve had a few this summer. Broken window, blood all over the kitchen area, some in the entrance, nothing in the rest of the house but I wanted to be sure. I had to call in guys from Nassau and they weren’t too happy about it, but like I told ‘em, ‘Hey, two of my three officers are on vacation and one’s never worked anything bigger than a drunk and disorderly.’ And honestly, all this blood and guts stuff gets me squeamish, so I wasn’t feeling too good. When I heard they were bringing in the big guns from the NYPD, boy was relieved–”

Paris interrupted. “Weren’t you called to search this house three days ago?”

Milone put up his hands. “Those Brooklyn guys gave us an address ten miles away. Mixed up the street numbers, or something. Not my guys’ fault.”

Paris gave him a sour look and Chad jumped in. “Is Derby Evans still here?”

“Oh, yeah, we set her up over there,” Milone pointed at a makeshift shelter set up to the right of the house. “Wouldn’t stop screaming for an hour but she’s calmed down now. If you ask me, seems a little,” Milone pointed at his head and made a ‘crazy’ gesture with his index finger. “Wanted to go to a hotel but told her she had to wait for you.”

Sensing that Milone was close to launching into another monologue, Chad said, “Thank you very much for your help. I think we’ve got it from here.”

Milone put up his hands and said, “Please, take it away. I gotta get back. I just got a call that a kid we pulled over with a DUI is actually some congressman’s nephew, so,” Milone shrugged. “Give me a call if you need help with anything around here,” he added, handing Chad his card. 

As Milone drove off, disappearing into the trees, the two started towards the house. Paris muttered, “What an idiot. These podunk detectives better not have messed up the crime scene.”

—-

Learning to walk into a crime scene like you found human suffering blasé was a rite of passage for any homicide detective, and Chad had become skilled at the charade. Working hundreds of violent cases, most of them with officers who saw any sign of compassion as a fatal weakness, taught Chad how to act stoic and detached when faced with even the goriest of tableaus. The guise did not help with the insomnia and the nightmares, the paranoia and the guilt; but, Chad was used to pushing these feelings deep down inside of himself, to be confronted only in his lowest hours. In those moments, he could feel all that absorbed pain wearing on him, like sandpaper grating him down to less and less, making him courser and rougher, too.

Rounding the corner of the driveway, Chad tried to focus on what the head technician was saying about blood spatter. He could not think about Ryan right now.

“The majority of it is right over here,” the technician was saying, leading the detectives into the house. “Watch the glass.”

Chad and Paris walked gingerly around the broken window, following the woman to the kitchen. Turning past the marble counter, Chad drew in a sharp breath and took an involuntary step backwards.

Bloodstains patterned the tile floor, puddles dried in a deep red hue to create a morbid Rorschach test. Some had splattered over the counters, and a large toaster had been unplugged and lay forlornly on its side, its broken interior scattered in pieces, some coated in puddles of blood.

Chad was vaguely aware that Paris had asked another question of the technician, likely to distract from Chad’s reaction. He tried to look at her, and not the blood.

“No sign of a weapon, but I would guess a knife or sharp edge of some kind. These are uniform stains from the wound, or wounds, no indication the cause of the bleeding happened here,” she said. “Most spatter contained to the kitchen, though Luminol found some flecks in the living room carpet. We’ll be able to see if the blood belongs to your victim tomorrow morning.”

“Fingerprints?”

“Four sets, found throughout the house so I’m guessing the family’s, but we’ll run them through the system just in case. Oh, and the wallet and phone are out there. We didn’t touch them.”

Chad and Paris followed her directions down the hallway, to the right, and the right again, making their way to the front of the house. It really was gigantic. As they approached the front, Chad sniffed in, something pungent and familiar lurking underneath the dusty air-freshened scent of the room, but couldn't put his finger on what it was. He saw the wallet in the entranceway, lying open on a large blue carpet.

Chad put on gloves and knelt down, inspecting the wallet. There was no cash, but otherwise the pockets had credit cards, a MetroCard, and a driver’s license for Mr. Ryan Evans. 

“Great,” Paris said from the other room. Chad followed her voice and saw her frowning at the phone in her hand. She showed the screen to Chad: it was black, with a giant spiderweb crack down the front. “No one mentioned the phone is useless.”

“Let’s bring it in anyways,” Chad said. “Computers might be able to get something off it.”

Paris nodded and put the phone in an evidence bag. “Wallet empty?”

Chad shook his head. “ID, cards, everything but cash. If this was a break in, it wasn’t a robbery.”

“Let’s check with Derby that nothing else is missing.” When Chad hesitated, she said, “Do you want to stay here while I talk to her?”

“No, that’s okay,” Chad said, shuddering as he remembered the bloody kitchen; he did not need to see that again. The two exited the house to meet the mother.

Derby Evans sat in a folding chair under the makeshift tent in the driveway, a blanket wrapped around her, likely from one of the officers. She was clutching a cup of something in her hands and staring out at the trees before the house, a vacant look in her eyes.

“Derby Evans?” Paris asked, coming up behind her. Chad made sure to stand a few feet behind, just in case.

The woman turned, surprised. “Yes, I’m Derby Evans,” she said in a dreamy voice.

“Detective Geller,” Paris said. “I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

Derby nodded, but then turned away from them, back to the forest. Paris and Chad exchanged a look, and then walked around so they faced the woman. Chad noticed that Derby looked much the same as he remembered her; her face a little stiffer from another decade of neck lifts and skin peels, her hair the same light shade of blonde, arranged neatly on top of her head. Only her eyes revealed trauma.

Paris cleared her throat. “Ma’am, when did you last talk to Ryan?”

Derby continued to look out at the trees. After a moment she replied in the same tepid voice, “Oh, I don’t know. It must have been – my birthday. In June. He called and sent me flowers. Azaleas.”

“You had no contact at all for the past two months? No texts, no emails?”

Derby shook her head slowly. “Ryan is very busy. I thought we might all meet here in the summer, but, well,” she trailed off. “Summer is a busy time for all of us…”

“You weren’t concerned then, that you hadn’t heard from Ryan for two months?”

For the first time, Derby looked at Paris. Her eyes widened, and she said, “Of course, I was worried, especially when I got a call from the police. So I did what I could, and called everyone I knew in New York, told them to find him quickly, or else. Only Ryan doesn’t…”

Her voice faded again, and she returned her attention to the trees. Paris gave Chad an exasperated look, and he stepped forward.  
“Ryan doesn’t what, ma’am?”

“He doesn’t talk to me much, anymore, not after…” Her voice caught in her throat, and she started again. “He’s too busy these days, with his studio, and all the way on the other side of the country. He went to Spain a few years ago, all summer long, and none of us even knew he was gone until I got a postcard in the mail.” She laughed, a light, false-sounding thing that seemed to strain her face. “It didn’t even say anything, just a photo of Montjuïc and his name signed on the back. Like I was an afterthought.”

“Could you tell us what happened today?” Chad asked gently, bringing her back to the interview.

Derby nodded and put down the coffee cup. She fiddled with her hands, and Chad noticed they were shaking slightly. “After not hearing anything from the police, I decided to visit the house. Vance is still off on business so I thought I’d take a vacation for myself. Really I thought I’d find Ryan here, hiding out from something or other, and we could even have a holiday together…”

She frowned and looked down at her hands, purposefully placing them on her lap to stop the tremors. “I thought that’s what it was, when I saw his wallet in the entrance and found his phone. I didn’t see any cars in the driveway and assumed he was out, maybe at the beach. So I sat in the living room and waited for him, and then went to the kitchen for a glass of water. Only when I got to the kitchen it was–“

Derby closed her eyes for a moment, and then opened them, with that same vacant stare. “I ran about the house, screaming for Ryan, thinking he’d had an accident and was bleeding out somewhere. But he wasn’t, so I called the police, and, well.” She finisher her story without expression, and though she looked at Chad as she spoke she seemed to be looking through him. 

“Did you notice anything missing?” Paris asked in her usual brusque tone. She was always extra blunt with sentimental witnesses.

“No, everything seemed the same.”

“Did you touch anything?”

Derby shook her head.

“Not even the phone?” Paris had a familiar gleam in her eye that Chad knew meant she had an idea.

Derby blinked at Paris. “Oh, yes. Just for an instant, and then I put it back on the couch.”

“Did you notice it was broken?”

Derby frowned. “Broken? No, I–“

“How did you know it was Ryan’s? Could be anyone’s.”

Derby stuttered, looking perplexed. “I don’t know, I just assumed. His wallet was there, it made sense.”

Paris nodded, writing something in her notepad, and then said, “You’ll have to come in to the precinct and make a formal statement.”

“Now?” Derby looked from Paris to Chad, alarmed.

“Not right now,” Chad reassured her. “But soon. We might need you for further questioning later, so you’ll want to stay somewhere closer to the city.”

Derby nodded, looking anxious. After the detectives thanked her and started to walk back to the house, she called out after them. “Wait! What about Ryan? Is he alright? What’s happened?”

The sheer desperation in her voice broke Chad’s heart. Her eyes, though older, were the same clear blue as Ryan’s. He wished he could tell her something comforting, because he needed it just as much as her. 

Instead, he said with an authority he did not feel, “We’ll call you as soon as we have any new information.”

Derby bit her lip and nodded, and then returned to staring out at the trees.

—

After a full Paris-grade search of the house, the detectives returned to the car. As expected, they had found nothing but vast, untouched rooms, or as Paris called them, ‘storehouses of overpriced junk.’ Chad’s muscles ached, and his stomach grumbled angrily for food.

After picking up lunch from a bougie cafe on the beach (Southampton evidently did not believe in McDonalds), the two ate their food on the drive back to the city. 

Between bites of her sandwich, Paris asked, “What did you think of Derby Evans?”

Chad munched on a fry for a moment. Swallowing, he said, “She made me sad.”

“Could you at least pretend to be objective?”

“Sorry. What did you think?”

“I felt like we were in a Tennessee Williams play.”

Chad opened up his burger to scrape the ketchup off. He always forgot to order it without after a day at a crime scene. “I assume she’s in shock.”

“So she wasn’t always that nutty?”

“You’re being kind of harsh,” Chad frowned. “She just found out her son is hurt, and missing, and she’s scared.” Chad felt his own emotions well and he paused his scraping for a second, squeezing his eyes tight. 

“You’re not gonna get weepy on me, are you Danforth?” Paris asked, sounding uneasy.

Chad let out a shaky laugh, opening his eyes and returning to his burger. “No, sorry. I’m completely objective.”

“Good,” Paris said, though she still looked worried. “I know this must be hard,” She continued in a low voice. “Seeing all that. You don't... I mean, I’d be a wreck if we were looking for my high school crush.”

“Ryan wasn’t a crush,” Chad said, with an edge he hadn’t intended. “Sorry. I just… I think it’s better if we don’t talk about it.”

Paris nodded and turned back to the car window. They drove a little further and Paris said, “Something was off about Derby. That phone thing? I don’t buy it. And so creepy. Staring out at the forest like she expected him to come running up through the trees.” Paris shuddered. "I want to bring her in."

“Alright, alright,” Chad said, knowing better than to try to talk Paris out of suspecting someone of something, no matter how minor. His phone buzzed and he checked the message, clicking his tongue. “First, we have someone else to question.”

Paris groaned. “She’s there?”

“She’s coming in now. Are you gonna lead the interview?”

Paris shot him a look. “Is that a joke? I was in her bed less than 24 hours ago.”

“Fine," Chad sighed. "But she’ll remember me, for sure. Should we get Johnson to do it?”

“She’s our prime suspect. People will talk.” Paris shook her head. “You go in first, lay the groundwork, all off the record. I’ll watch from the glass and join if you need help.”

Chad agreed, and spent the rest of the car ride figuring out how to best interrogate his old friend, Kelsi Nielsen.


	9. Jolly Holiday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Gentlemen like you are few..."
> 
> \---
> 
> Chad and Ryan spend some quality time together.

_Albuquerque, New Mexico_

_September, 2006_

\-------

Ryan was still out sick over the next few days of school. Chad missed him but was glad for the excuse to make a beeline for his car as soon as the last bell rang, avoiding any forced socialization by the lockers. He was ignoring Troy, who was grating on him with every self-confident hair flip, and dreading the day practice started up again. But for now, Chad made a routine of driving straight to the Evans house, giving a hasty greeting to Lonny before running up the stairs to see Ryan. The two would then sit side by side on his duvet, watching movie musicals until Ryan fell asleep.

On Thursday, Chad rang the Evans' doorbell and was met by Lonny.

“Here for Ryan again?”

Chad felt himself flush. “I’m bringing him his homework.”

Lonny raised her eyebrows, but said nothing. “He's upstairs.”

Chad mumbled his thanks and ascended the stairs to Ryan’s room. When he knocked on his door, he heard no response, but could make out a verse of Jolly Holiday. He cautiously pushed the door open to peer inside, and smiled. Ryan was sprawled out on his bed, limbs tangled up in his duvet, snoring softly.

Chad tiptoed in and closed the door behind him. He set the container of soup on Ryan’s dresser, careful not to knock over any of the neatly arranged dance trophies. Just as leaned over to mute Dick Van Dyke and his penguins, he heard a mumble behind him.

“You’re here,” Ryan said, rubbing his eyes and extracting his legs from the bedspread. “I was asleep?”

“I didn’t mean to wake you up,” Chad said, warmth spreading in his chest as he took in Ryan’s sleepy, innocent face.  
Ryan sat up and scooted over on the bed, and Chad took his place next to him. “How do you feel?”

Ryan yawned. “Much better.”

“That’s good. I think your au pair is getting suspicious of me.”

“Probably ‘cause I told her we’re making out,” Ryan said. Seeing Chad’s eyes widen, he added, “I’m Kidding.”

“I guess you are feeling better,” Chad said, hitting Ryan lightly on the shoulder.

“I am.”

“So are you a latchkey kid now, or has Lonny adopted you?”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “No, it’s my dad’s stupid business. He’s having dinners with clients he met at Baja all week, and bringing Mom and Sharpay along so he can look like a family man.”  


“That sounds… Incredibly boring,” Chad said.

“Usually by the third martini Mom’s wiped and Dad is exalting the wisdom of The Decider, so Sharpay and I practice our telepathic twin power. We’re pretty good.”

“Have you convinced Sharpay to use it for good instead of evil?” Chad asked.

“I’m working on it,” Ryan said, and then paused, eyeing the bag on the dresser. “Is that more soup?”

“Veggie dumpling.”

“I can’t believe you brought me soup every day. You didn’t have to do that,” Ryan said.

“I wanted to.”

“I’m not great company when I’m sick.”

“Luckily, Julie is very high energy,” Chad said, nodding towards the television.

Ryan adjusted his pillow, burrowing further down into the bed. “Please tell me you’ve seen _Mary Poppins_.”

“You give me no credit, Evans,” Chad said. 

“You did refer to her as ‘that lady from _The Princess Diaries _,’ but okay."__

“Only because your face gets really red and frown-y when you’re mad,” Chad said.

Ryan grabbed a throw pillow off the foot of the bed and hit him with it. “You’re the worst.”

Laughing, Chad shielded himself with his arms. “I surrender! Stop, hey, you’re missing the singing!”

Ryan, laughing too, threw the pillow onto the ground and turned up the movie's volume. Ryan sang along to most of the songs, Chad joining in on a few, until he dozed off, head nodding onto Chad’s shoulder.

\----

Chad woke up, disoriented, and wondered how late it was. Outside was black, not a sound from the rest of the house. He carefully shifted Ryan’s head so it rested on his pillow, and then slid off the bed as quietly as he could. He crept out of the room, grabbing the soup container on his way.

Downstairs was dark and quiet, so Chad turned the corner to the kitchen and placed the brown paper bag in the refrigerator next to the three other identical containers. At least Ryan would be well-fed.

Just as he shut the fridge door he heard footsteps on the other side of the wall. Frozen in place, Chad prayed it was Lonny, and was dismayed when Sharpay appeared in the entrance a second later, holding a pointy-heeled shoe high above her head. Seeing Chad, she lowered it, her surprise replaced with contempt.  


“I thought you were a burglar!”

“Stealing what, your Perrier?”

Sharpay walked to the fridge in a huff, forcing Chad to the other side of the counter. She opened the door and then closed it again. “You’re the one bringing all the weird deli food?”

“It’s for Ryan,” Chad said. “It’s soup.”

“Have you been here every day?”

Chad zipped up his hoodie and started for the door. “I have to go.”

“Wait!” Sharpay said, following him down the long hallway. “Why are you here?”

“I’m his friend, Sharpay.”

“Yeah, right.” At the front door, Sharpay turned on her heel to block Chad in his path. She stood, arms folded, backlit by the dim streetlight from outside.

Chad looked at her scowl for a moment, saying nothing. Finally he turned his head, stepping around her. “I’ve got to go.”

Sharpay said nothing, but watched from the door as Chad drove away, her face obscured by shadow.

——

Ryan returned to school the next day. Chad spotted him just after lunch, walking down the hallway with book bag in hand. He looked back to his normal self; some color in his cheeks, hair carefully arranged under a blue trilby. Before he could think, Chad ran to meet Ryan at his locker, throwing his arms around the boy’s shoulders in a forceful hug. Instantly he felt eyes on him and jumped backwards, giving Ryan a slap on the back instead.

“Dude! You’re Back!”

“I’m back,” Ryan said, adjusting his hat. “All better.”

“Good,” Chad said. “It was getting boring around here.”

Ryan opened his locker door, stacking his books inside one by one. He did not look at Chad.

“What’s up?” Chad asked. “Did something happen? Do I need to kick someone’s ass?”

Ryan slammed the locker shut with a bang, making Chad jump. “Stop it.”

Chad stared at him. “What?”

“This,” Ryan gestured at Chad. “Being so nice. I’ve gotten on without you for eighteen years, I think I can make it one more without your help.”

The bell rang, the shrill scream punctuating Ryan’s words. He picked up his bag and started down the hall, making Chad jog to keep up.

“I know you can take care of yourself. Is this about me seeing you when you were sick? ‘Cause I told you–”

“I don’t need you. I’m not weak.” Ryan said, giving Chad one last scalding stare before entering the classroom before him. The second bell rang, leaving Chad to run to his next class.

He slipped into English just in time, taking the only seat available. Unfortunately, it was the one next to Sharpay.

She glanced at him as she retouched her lipstick in a pocket mirror. “You don’t look good. As in, worse than usual.”

Chad, still in shock, said, “You’re brother just yelled at me.”

“Trouble in paradise?”

“What?” Chad asked.

“He filled me in on your little visits. It would be sweet if you didn’t have – oh, I don’t know – a girlfriend.”

Chad felt his face go hot, but any response was cut off by Mr. Cutler wrapping on the whiteboard, ready to start his lecture. Chad could not concentrate on the vocabulary words he wrote on the board; he kept sneaking glances at Sharpay.

When the class was finally dismissed, Chad jumped up, blocking Sharpay’s path in the same way she had the night before.

“What did you say to him?” He asked.

“What I’ve always said. That he shouldn’t chase straight guys, even when the straight guy is the one chasing him.”

“I– I’m not–“ Chad said. “We’re friends! It’s not–“

Sharpay put up her hand. “Do you or do you not have a girlfriend?”

“Yeah, but–“

“Then you’re just being cruel,” Sharpay said. “If you can’t figure out why, then you are as dumb as the rest of them.”

Sharpay sidestepped Chad and sashayed away, leaving him speechless in the empty classroom.


	10. Love and Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chad interrogates Kelsi, and discovers that Ryan's life since high school hasn't been so easy.

By the time Chad and Paris got back to the precinct, Paris was looking rather ill. They stopped by Computers to drop off the shattered phone and checked in with the floaters, who had little to report. 

“Kelsi Nielsen is in B,” Johnson said from his desk in the assigned briefing room, not looking up from his screen. “Waiting for two hours by now, so should be ready to confess.”

Paris’ eyes darted around the room, looking for an escape. Chad shepherded her out the door and paused in the hallway, feeling he should say something reassuring. But only empty platitudes filled his head. 

“Let’s get this over with.” Paris shook him off and stalked into the viewing room.

Placing his hand on the doorknob, Chad shut his eyes and sucked in the dusty air around him. _Please, God, let her have nothing to do with this._

Kelsi was sitting on the edge of a cheap folding chair, tapping her fingers persistently on the table. She jumped when Chad opened the door, and stared with wide eyes as he took the seat across from her.

Chad adopted his best neutral expression, setting up the recorder while watching his old classmate in his periphery. Unlike Chad, who looked the same as his graduation photos save for a haircut and premature crow’s feet, Kelsi had changed since high school. Gone were the glasses and ponytail; in their place a dark blonde undercut and precise maroon lipstick. Geometric tattoos lined her arms, disappearing under a buttoned vest.

Careful to leave the recorder turned off for now, Chad leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. He knew he could easily lose control of this interview, but was determined not to show it.

“Chad, what are you doing here? What am I doing here?” Kelsi’s words rushed out, a stream of questions tumbling into each other. “I got a call to come down here right away, but no one will tell me what’s going on! Do you? Are you – do you work here?”

“I’m one of the detectives on Ryan’s case.”

Kelsi’s eyes lingered on the door. “Is she here?”

Glancing at the mirror behind Kelsi for only a second, Chad sat forward in his chair. “When was the last time you saw Ryan?”

“I already told Paris.”

“You told Detective Geller that you met Ryan over a week ago for dinner.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”  


“But that wasn’t true. You saw him Friday afternoon.”

Kelsi shrunk down in her chair, rubbing her left index finger with one hand. “That’s what I meant.”

“Ryan is still missing, going on six days,” Chad said. “We have reason to believe he is the victim of foul play.”

Kelsi stared at him and then scanned the room, biting her lip. She suddenly looked much more like the self-conscious teen Chad remembered. 

“Am I being accused of something?” She asked after a long pause.

“Standard procedure,” Chad said. “Do you mind if I record this?”

“Fine,” Kelsi said, eyeing the machine. Chad pressed the ‘record’ button, noting the time and his name.

“I saw Ryan the weekend before last for dinner in midtown, like I told Par – the other officer,” Kelsi said. “I saw him again on Friday, a few days ago.”

Chad waited as Kelsi took a breath. “I didn’t think it was important. Me and some friends went to the Grove for the weekend, and I invited Ryan to come. He decided to join at the last minute so I stopped to pick him up.”

“You were with him at the Grove all weekend?”

“No! We were almost at the ferry when Ryan said he wasn’t feeling well. We stopped for gas and he got out, said he was gonna go.”

“Where?”

“Back to Brooklyn, I guess.” Kelsi rubbed her index finger harder, making the flesh turn pink.

“He didn’t say anything else? Act odd?”

“Not really,” Kelsi shrugged. “He was pretty quiet. I mean, it was a noisy car, with all of us packed in. But he didn’t say much.”

A reverberant bang made both their heads turn to the door. Paris strode in, head high, and slammed her hands on the desk.

Kelsi stood up, her chair pushed back with a squeak. “Paris, what–“

Paris held up her hand, and Kelsi went silent. “Detective Paris Geller, stopping the interview.” She pressed the little button on the machine and lowered her hand. 

“Why didn’t you tell me all this yesterday?” It was more accusation than question, in a voice Chad knew she reserved for the most despicable of criminals.

Kelsi’s eyes, full of fire, fixed on Paris. “I forgot.”

Paris laughed, mirthlessly. “Very short-term memory.”

“I did, I… It didn’t seem important. It was just an hour, I barely talked to him.”

“But you did talk.”

“Barely.”  


“About?”

“Nothing, really. Honestly, he and my friends don’t get along great.” 

“Define ‘don’t get along’,” Paris said.

“They didn’t kidnap him,” Kelsi rolled her eyes. “He can be kind of depressing. Serious. My friends aren’t into that philosophical stuff.”

Chad had to interrupt. “You’re telling me Ryan is a nihilist now?”

Kelsi turned to him, grabbing the back of her chair with one hand. “When did you last see him?”

“I didn’t even know he’s in New York.”

“You two both dropped off the map after high school," Kelsi said. She relaxed her grip on the chair back. “Can I at least sit down now?”

Paris gestured in affirmation, taking her own seat next to Chad. Kelsi folded her hands together and then took them apart, weaving and re-weaving her fingers in perpetual motion. “I hadn’t seen Ryan either, much. Just the last few months, after I moved here. But I found out he had an accident, and he can’t dance anymore.” She paused for a moment, glancing at the table as if she could see through the plastic to Chad’s lower half. “You would have a lot to talk about. Only his wasn’t on the news.”

Chad felt the familiar throb in his right leg, a dull pulsing pain that returned whenever he was reminded of how broken he was. He pushed it aside. “That can’t be right. He teaches dance.”

“He opened that studio afterwards. He doesn’t teach. He won’t admit it, but it kills him, I’m sure. He’s much more intense now. Serious. Focused on these big ideas… Like when we had dinner last week, he was obsessed with talking about trust, responsibility, forgiveness.”

“Forgiveness towards anyone in particular?” Paris asked.

Kelsi shook her head. “With Ryan, it’s always big picture, grand scheme. It’s a nice change from the vapid LA conversation topics, but I also get why my friends aren’t so interested.”

Chad rubbed his leg, easing the pain away. Ryan without dance. The idea was absurd; and yet. Chad remembered the day the doctors told him he could no longer play basketball, not for fun and certainly not professionally. He remembered the sensation of his world closing in around him, any possible future turned to a pinpoint and erased. Chad chose to leave that world behind, the pain of remembering what could have been too potent to even coach a college team, as many had suggested. 

But Ryan had re-committed himself to the craft even as it rejected him, electing to be reminded daily of his lost potential and forgotten futures. Chad’s heart broke for him.

“You have an alibi for that weekend?” Paris asked, bringing Chad back to the table.

“A whole island of party people,” Kelsi said. 

“And after that?”

Kelsi hesitated. “I was at home, working.”

“Anyone who can corroborate?”

“I’m freelance, I work alone. I was editing a new doc.”

“No roommates, landlords?”

Kelsi bit her lip and rifled her fingers through her hair. “My girlfriend was with me Monday. She went to her parents' yesterday morning.”

Chad practically felt the drop in temperature from Paris’ corner. A long, uncomfortable pause followed as her eyes bore into Kelsi’s forehead. Kelsi steadfastly avoided looking up to meet her gaze.

“That’s all we need,” Paris said, standing up. She motioned to Chad to get up as well, and he did as he was told. “Johnson will be in for your contacts’ information.” 

Paris stormed out of the room, Chad close behind, and slammed the door so loud the hinges rattled. Chad gave one last look at Kelsi, who remained in her seat, her hair covering her eyes. He walked out, closing the door a little more gently.

Paris stood leaning against the wall, eyes closed. “Can this day get any worse?” 

“I’m so sorry, Paris.”

Paris tilted her head back. “What is it with your generation? Loose morals, loose women.”

Chad decided to let this slide, considering Paris was only five years his senior. “At least it looks like she has an alibi. She’s probably not involved, besides giving Ryan a ride.”

Paris slid down to the ground, crouching with her back to the wall and knees at her chest. “She probably gave me herpes, but at least she’s not a murderer. My standards are getting dangerously low.” She opened her eyes. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Chad said. “I know what it looks like. We don’t have to tiptoe.”

Paris closed her eyes again. “Can we just stay here for the rest of the day?”  


Chad slid next to her, hugging his knees to his chest. He didn’t like to think what their fellow officers would say if they walked into the hallway to see the precinct’s lead detectives huddled in a corner like children, hiding from their own case. But he still sat there for a moment longer, allowing the roar of noise in his brain quiet to a distant buzz.

As soon as Chad entered the briefing room, the clatter of keyboards and chatter of competing conversations enveloped him, ending any sense of balance he had just achieved. He noticed the room held a few more bodies than before, the team likely increased in proportion to the amount of blood found at the crime scene. Most faces he did not recognize and the floaters did not acknowledge him, set on their own determined paths of checking addresses and searching for security footage.

Detective Johnson called out to Chad from the other side of the room. He looked more irritated than usual and was holding up the receiver of his desk phone in his large, grizzly palm.

“Someone asking for you. A Sharpay Evans. She sounds pissed.”

Chad wished he had stayed in the hallway a while longer.


	11. Costume Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Who am I if I don't feel like the me from yesterday..."
> 
> \----
> 
> Chad runs into Ryan at a Halloween party.

_Albuquerque, New Mexico_

_October, 2006_

\-------

After their fight in the hallway, Chad barely saw Ryan. They only had a few classes together, and the ones they did share were spent on opposite sides of the room. Chad longed to talk to him, to sit next to him, to touch that hair… But Sharpay’s words kept replaying in his head: “You’re just being cruel.”

Chad wasn’t stupid. He knew what Sharpay meant. He thought back to fifth grade, when he had spent every recess with Jasmine Cordelli. He liked to play with her because she was really good at tag, and her mom packed the gummy fruit snacks he liked. But when one day she asked very politely to be his girlfriend, he had refused, not entirely sure what the term meant but uninterested all the same. Jasmine ran off crying, never to speak to him again. But high school was not fifth grade, and Ryan was not Jasmine Cordelli. 

“It’s good, but it hurts,” he had said that last night with Chad before falling asleep. Chad had assumed those words were nonsense mutterings of a sick, half-conscious Ryan, but now he wasn’t sure. 

But why on earth would Ryan like Chad? Chad was a jock; they had nothing in common. He was friends with other jocks, who either ignored or insulted Ryan. Not to mention, Chad didn’t have a fraction of the talent or charisma or innate goodness that Ryan possessed. No, Chad was sure Sharpay was wrong about that.

And then there was the other thing. Chad could feel it pushing against his brain like a current, but he could not think about it now, did not want to think about it. He could not consider being, that. He wasn’t like Ryan, he had no fondness for pink and didn’t say things like ‘fabulous’. He didn't know anything about fashion, and he didn't talk like that guy in _Mean Girls_. Plus, he had a girlfriend. So he pushed back against it, willing it disappear even as it threatened to become a wave, crashing down around him.

——-

As the weeks rolled on, Ryan and Chad stopped speaking altogether. Even when Kelsi roped them all into doing another musical, Ryan kept his distance, and Chad did the same. He thought about approaching him a few times, but whenever he got up the nerve Ryan would be absent or busy, the first out the door or in deep conversation with Kelsi and Sharpay.

Soon nearly two months had passed without a word, and Chad had to face that their relationship had reverted to that of classmates who rarely spoke to one another. Luckily basketball practice had started up and Chad threw himself into the game, focusing on improving his moves for college recruiters.

One Friday in October, Taylor perched on Chad’s desk just as he was scribbling out the last few answers to some forgotten math homework.

“Need help?”

“No,” Chad said, writing one last _=X._ “There! Done.” He smiled up at her. 

“So,” Taylor started. “Are you going tonight?”

“Tonight?”

“Jason’s Halloween party. His parents are out of town.”

“Oh, yeah?” Chad was still recovering from last week’s homecoming game, and was looking forward to catching up on the DVR.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Taylor said. “Friends, beer, and Martha will probably get drunk and do terrible karaoke. Please,” She reached out and put one hand lightly over his. “We’ve barely hung out lately.”

It was true; Chad had not been avoiding Taylor, exactly, but their schedules were hard to line up this year, what with extra basketball practice and science bowl prep. Plus, every time Chad kissed his girlfriend, he was keenly aware of the thing he was not thinking about, pushing with urgency on the perimeter of his thoughts.

Chad moved his hand out from under hers, picking up his pencil and twirling it between his fingers like a baton. “We don't need to wear costumes, do we?”

“Costumes are mandatory. I’m going as a doctor. Not a sexy one, so don’t get your hopes up.”

“I don’t know,” Chad said. “I’m pretty beat.”

Taylor’s eyes narrowed. Sensing an argument on the horizon, Chad dropped his pencil to his notebook. “Pick you up at 8?”

Taylor jumped off the desk and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “I can’t wait.”

—-

A few hours later, Chad regretted agreeing to go to the party. He was exhausted, and already in a sour mood anticipating an evening of the Troy and Gabriella show. But thinking of Taylor, he forced himself to scavenge for something that would be a passable costume, put on his best façade of optimism, and drove the few blocks to her house.

“What are you supposed to be?” Taylor asked when she sat in the passenger’s seat, eyeing Chad’s jeans and t-shirt with suspicion.

“Hang on,” Chad said, leaning over and pulling a black leather motorcycle jacket from the back seat. “See?”

“Where did you even get that?”

“My cousin left it, the one who’s really into Metallica. I’m a biker.”

“Ah,” Taylor said. “Well, at least you aren’t a basketball player.”

Chad put his keys in the ignition. “That would’ve worked?”

“No,” Taylor said, smiling. “What do you think of mine?”

Chad glanced over at his girlfriend. She had a stethoscope around her neck and wore a long white lab coat over scrubs.

“Very sexy,” Chad said, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

Taylor laughed. “My top priority.”

By the time Chad pulled up to Jason’s house on the other side of town, cars lined the road and loud music blared. A distant scream and a splash meant the guests were already drunk enough to be pushing each other into the pool. As soon as they walked into the house, they were met by Jason, swaying slightly in a “Vote for Pedro” shirt.

“You made it!” He yelled over the music. “What are you?”

“A biker,” Chad said.

“Huh,” Jason said. “Don’t break anything or I’m dead.”

After assurances that they would only touch the beer, Jason led them towards the living room, sidestepping a few Charlie’s Angels as he went. A small crowd was gathered around the couch, apparently enraptured by the people occupying it.

Troy and Gabriella sat side by side, telling a story that required a lot of giggling and hand-touching. Gabby wore a white dress and feathered wings, while Troy’s costume consisted of a white and red University of Albuquerque jersey.

“Very original,” Chad said under his breath. Taylor snickered and put his arm in hers, bringing him closer. They moved to the back of the crowd, waving at a few of their friends on the way. Troy and Gabby had not noticed them, too absorbed in their performance.

When Chad realized what the they were narrating, he groaned. “Not this again.”

“It’s a crowd pleaser,” Taylor said, though she sounded equally bored.

“As if we don’t all know how they met already.”

“I don’t find karaoke particularly romantic. If we had met at a ski resort’s teen party, I would have thought you were a total dork.”

“I would never be caught dead at a teen party,” Chad said. “And the singing starts in 3… 2…”

Right on cue, Troy stood on the couch and belted out the first line of “Start of Something New.” 

Taylor laughed, nuzzling Chad’s shoulder. “I like it when you’re snarky.”

Suddenly an ominous quiet fell over the group, save for the singing. Whispers traveled through the crowd like a gust of wind. Chad followed the stares to the front door, where Sharpay stood, newly arrived.

Wearing a short dress and stilettos in matching shades of bubblegum pink, she said something to the person behind her and turned a cold eye about the hushed crowd, making everyone quickly avert their gaze and start up a nervous chatter. 

“Who invited her?” Martha asked.

“I’m guessing any of the guys,” Taylor said. Chad glanced around the room and saw she was right; all the men had their eyes fixed on Sharpay, unblinking. Even Kelsi, standing in the corner, stood with her mouth slightly agape.

“Halloween brings out the best in people,” Martha said. “Do you think she’s Julia Roberts in _Pretty Woman_?

“I think even that would have required more effort,” Taylor said.

Taylor and Martha continued to discuss the demerits of revealing Halloween costumes, but Chad had stopped listening. He was distracted by the figure who had walked in just behind Sharpay, a man wearing a long black coat and a dark tricorn hat, lowered over his face. As he turned, Chad’s chest tightened: Ryan.

Ryan said something to Sharpay, and the two walked down the hallway towards the kitchen, out of view.

“We get the full _Shining_ treatment,” Taylor said.

“I always think of them more as the _Matrix_ twins. Less ‘come play with us’ more ‘do what we say or we’ll run you over with our car.’”

“I’m gonna get a drink,” Chad said, pointing towards the kitchen. “You want one?” Not waiting for an answer, he untangled his arm from Taylor’s and hurried down the hall.

Housing the keg and some hoarded bottles of liquor, the kitchen was the most popular spot, packed with people. A small path had cleared around Sharpay and Ryan, making them easy to find near the sink. Ryan was sipping on something out of a red cup, the half of his face not obscured by his hat looking very bored. Sharpay was leaning against the counter, busily texting.

Chad sifted through the crowd to the beer, pouring a cup with one eye on Ryan. He noticed the way that tailored coat perfectly hugged his torso before gracefully spinning out from the waist down, like a waterfall wrapping around his body.

He was still watching Ryan when someone shoved into him from behind, jostling the Solo cup out of his hand and sending liquid flying.

“Shit!” He regained his balance and caught the cup between his side and the counter, saving it before it fell to the floor. He failed to rescue the beer, which now drenched his shirt.

The offender, a girl Chad did not recognize, slurred an apology in his general direction and disappeared into the crowd. He reached for a napkin and walked towards the sink, but froze at the sight of the Evans. They fixed him with identical glares. Chad swallowed and turned, heading for the bathroom instead.

\------

Two hours later, Chad’s shirt still smelled of beer but he had drunk enough that he no longer cared. He was in the backyard, sitting in a circle with about ten others. Most of the rest of the partygoers were inside, their voices muffled against the music, still playing loudly from within the house. Out here was comparatively calm. Taylor leaned against his shoulder, her arm resting on his leg. Her skin was soft and warm, like Ryan’s. Chad pushed the thought away.  


The conversation in the group was dying down, Jason re-enacting key moments of the homecoming game, despite the fact that everyone had seen it live. Chad looked up at the sky, the stars above dancing and shifting every time he blinked. He must be very drunk. Realizing that this kaleidoscope effect would not be helpful driving home, he reached for his cell to tell his mother that he would be spending the night at Jason’s. Only it wasn’t in his pocket.

“Have you seen my phone?” 

Taylor shook her head. 

“It’s probably inside. I have to text my mom.” Chad stood up, a feat in and of itself, and Taylor repositioned to lean against Gabriella on her other side. Chad steadied his vision and walked through the back door.

Inside, the party was still raging at full force. Chad waded through the crowd, bumping into people at every turn, finding his way back to the living room. Halfway there, someone grabbed his arm and pulled him backwards.

“Dude, there you are!” Zeke looked at him with wild eyes, grinning. “You’re missing all the fun.”

Zeke seemed to be referring to the crowd behind him, a group Chad recognized as juniors and sophomores whose names he did not know. All shared a similar manic look, a charged energy pulsing through them, and Chad wondered what was responsible. He spotted Kelsi standing to the side, arms crossed, looking uncomfortable.

“I found cards,” Sharpay said, appearing suddenly at Zeke’s side. She pulled him back to the group. Zeke waved him over and Chad followed.

Chad slunk next to Kelsi. “What’s going on?” His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, and he struggled to get the words out.

“We’ve been playing truth or dare,” Kelsi said. “Zeke drank a whole bottle of soy sauce.”

Chad grimaced. “Why don’t you come outside? It’s nice outside.”

“That’s okay,” Kelsi said, her cheeks red.

Chad gave her a pat on the shoulder, missed, and patted her head instead. He turned to go, but then noticed Ryan standing just a few feet away. His back was to Chad, his hat gone and blonde hair ruffled and messy.

“Maybe I’ll stay,” Chad mumbled. The bodies moved to form a circle, and Chad followed suit, sitting next to Kelsi. The faces around him were wavy and shifting, rearranging with every beat that vibrated through the loudspeaker.

“The game is suck and blow,” Sharpay announced over the music. She took the spot on the other side of Kelsi, who seemed to curl away, inching closer to Chad. Sharpay held up a stack of cards, pulling an ace of hearts from the deck. “You suck to take it, blow to pass it.” The circle giggled and catcalled. Sharpay ignored them. “If you drop it, the losers kiss.”

The space buzzed, the tension palpable. Some people laughed, others had looks of brief horror as they realized who they were sat beside. Chad glanced to his right and felt his throat constrict. Ryan. He did not seem to notice Chad, busy in conversation with a girl dressed as Dorothy on his other side. Chad quickly looked away, trying to calm his rapid breath.

Sharpay ceremoniously placed the card on her lips, and the crowd fell silent. She sucked in air and then let go with a flourish. The card remained floating against her face like an odd magic trick, suspended in midair. She leaned over to Zeke, pressing the card to his lips in a firm kiss, separated only by the thin piece of paper. They held this position for a moment, a frozen snapshot of almost-romance. Then Zeke leaned back, taking the card from Sharpay. A few in the circle laughed and clapped.

The card continued around, each person becoming serious and focused when it was their turn to pass the card to their neighbor. Chad could feel the pressure building, everyone waiting for a slip-up. The card traveled closer and closer, until it was Ryan’s turn. Chad held his breath as Ryan took the card from the Dorothy girl, heard his lungs suck in air. The card balanced on his lips, and he detached from her, turning to Chad.

Ryan’s eyes widened, his pupils saucers. His eyelids were rimmed with black, making his irises look bluer than Chad remembered, even in the dim light. Ryan hesitated only a second, and then leaned forward, placing his hands on the floor between them. Chad did the same, gripping his fingers into the soft carpet. He could sniff the alcohol on Ryan, concentrated and pungent when combined with Chad’s own strong odor of beer. Ryan brought his face closer to Chad, and Chad mirrored him, until they were mere centimeters apart. 

Ryan’s face blurred a little at the edges, the outline of his cheekbones shifting in and out of focus. The noise of the party floated away. All Chad could think was that Ryan was so close to him, closer than he’d been in a long time. Close enough to smell, to touch, to want.

The card brushed Chad’s lips and dropped to the ground. 

Time started up again, noise erupting around the circle. Zeke wolf whistled and laughter followed, along with shouts Chad didn’t care to listen to. Suddenly he found he was standing up, the room tilting at an alarming angle. He saw Ryan walking away and zig zagged after him, leaving the noise behind.

Ryan disappeared around the corner. Chad exited the front door and found him sitting on a bench on the deserted lawn, head in his hands. Chad stood in front of him, watching with curiosity as the bench twisted and turned in his vision.

Ryan looked up and saw Chad. He groaned. “Why’re you always here.” His speech was heavy and slurred.  


Chad reached for the bench and fell into the seat, grateful for a steady surface. A breeze blew past, a welcome reprieve from the stale party air.

“I would’ve done it,” Ryan said, leaning against the bench and tilting his head to the sky. “Wood’you’ve? No don’t–“ He said, interrupting himself. “I know it’s no. Always no, always never. Not you, not anyone.”

He spoke to the sky, the words connected and bare, released without affectation or self-consciousness. “Why’m I always a no? Everyone else has a person, even she has a Zeke. I’m always no, a no with no one, and it's not good, it doesn’t feel good…”

Ryan’s head lolled backwards. He hiccuped. After a minute of silence, he looked up at Chad, as if remembering he wasn’t alone. He frowned.

“You’re not dressed up.”

“I’m a biker,” Chad said. “No one gets it, though.” The words were sticky on his tongue.

Ryan let out a half-chuckle. He scooted closer to Chad, reaching for his jacket and tugging on the lapel. “Danny Zuko.”

Chad felt the beer rumble in his stomach, glowing in his veins. Ryan’s fingers lingered on his jacket, and then turned into a flat palm pressing onto Chad’s chest, just above his heart. Chad wondered if he could feel it beating so hard through the skin and fabric. His hand stayed there, his fingers burning a hole through Chad’s jacket. They locked eyes, and Chad was helpless against their pull.

Their lips met in a crash of skin and teeth. Chad pressed his mouth into Ryan’s, warm and wet, losing himself in the dance. He was soft but rough, sweet and sour, all sensation and no thought. Chad reached for Ryan’s neck. At his touch, Ryan jumped and moved back, breaking them apart.

Ryan stood up, and quickly put out his hand to steady himself on the armrest. He looked at Chad. “Sorry.”

Chad got up too, but stumbled, falling back. He missed the bench and landed on the ground.

Ryan reached out to help him up, but Chad pushed his hand away, a horrible sour taste filling his mouth. He shut his eyes and leaned into the grass, focusing on calming the stirring in his stomach. He was vaguely aware of Ryan saying something and touching his back. He tried to tell him to go, but it was too late. He shuddered forward, retching into a patch of weeds.

Then everything went black.


End file.
